


Surfing the Sunset

by Owl_and_the_Pussycat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beacon Hills Beach, F/M, M/M, Reporter Lydia, Rivalry, Sponsorship, Surfer Allison, Surfer Derek, Surfers, Teen Wolf AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:58:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owl_and_the_Pussycat/pseuds/Owl_and_the_Pussycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teen Wolf AU where Derek is tipped to become the next Surf Star, Allison is a kick-ass surfer, Scott is dreaming of becoming a pro surfer, Lydia is a TV reporter and Stiles is doing an excellent job of being, well, Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a perfect summer’s day in Beacon Hill. The sky was the kind of cloudless blue that made the world seem huge and there was a light breeze in the air, keeping the stickiness of the day from sapping everyone’s energy. And if ever there was a day that people needed to keep their energy levels up, today was that day.  
Beacon Hills was a popular town for tourists and holidaymakers. It was also a very misleadingly named town. Beacon Hills didn’t really have any hills, unless you counted the slight slope you had to navigate when you reached the residential areas of the town. What Beacon Hills did have was miles and miles of beautiful beach, and even better, miles and miles of surfing waves.

Every year a huge surf festival toured the county and today was the day it had landed in Beacon Hills. It featured pro surfers who were already taking the world by storm but offered up competitions to the locals who could try to impress and get that little bit further to their dream.

Scott McCall was one such dreamer. He was ready to make his mark. Or at least he would do. Eventually. When he had a surfboard that didn’t almost fall apart whenever he used it. And when he properly mastered that trick that he could do only when no one else was watching. Then he would make his mark. For now though, all he could do was join the crowds on the beach and watch on.

Fortunately for him, he had his best friend Stiles on hand to make the experience that little less painful. Stiles, loaded with snacks and a sarcastic tongue had absolutely no interest in surfing, or the ocean at all for that matter. This meant he could provide amusing and dry commentary of all the events and make Scott feel a little better about dreaming a little longer.

“And coming over to the beach we have two extremely tanned jock douchebags, who lets be honest probably got their bimbo girlfriends to smother them with fake bake before braving the beach population.”  
”Dude,” Scott squinted in the sun. “That’s Tyler and Kai, they’re together!”  
Stiles snapped his fingers. “Well then they fake baked each other. And here comes…”  
Stiles trailed off as he openly gawped at Lydia Martin wearing a hot pink bikini and cut off shorts making a beeline towards them.  
“Why is she… Is she?”  
“Because of Allison,” Scott reminded him. “They're best friends… I’m Allison’s boyfriend… she kinda has to say hello to me and stuff.”  
Stiles turned and gave his friend a beaming smile. “I think you dating Allison is the best thing that’s ever happened for me.”  
“Scott,” Lydia said perfunctory, stopping in front of them. “Stiles.”  
“Hey,” Scott said, leaning back.  
“Lydia,” said Stiles, leaning forwards.  
“Your ears are burning.” Lydia told him and knelt down beside him. “I’ve some factor 50 in my bag.”  
“So,” Scott said, as Lydia rummaged and Stiles stared. “You doing much reporting today then?”  
Lydia was a correspondent for Beacon Hills SportLine, a small news/ gossip TV channel that concerned itself mainly with the surfing lifestyle of Beacon Hills.  
Lydia pulled out the sun lotion “Non stop. Not that I mind. I get to interview all the hot surfer boys.”  
“You broken with up Jackson then?” Stiles asked hopefully.  
Lydia gave him a derisive look. “It’s just window shopping Stiles.”  
“I hate shopping,” said Stiles.  
Lydia wrinkled her nose up at this statement and turned to Scott. “What time is Allison on?”  
“Three,” Scott said, and smiled as he imagined his girlfriend out kicking ass on the waves.  
“I hate to use such a sloppy surfer term, but she’s gonna kill it out there.”  
“I know,” said Scott happily.  
“She’s up against that girl Maddy but she’s a total slut.”  
“Does being a slut affect surfing then?” Stiles wanted to know, but neither Lydia nor Scott seemed inclined to answer him. Stiles picked up the lotion and rubbed it, a little self consciously on his ears. He didn’t think he was really suited to the whole beach climate thing. He was probably better suited to live in the Artic. Then he could have a polar bear and be a bad ass etc. etc.  
Lydia got a message on her phone and gave a little squeal.  
“What?” Scott asked. Stiles thought, please may it not be from Jackson Douchebaggery.  
“It’s a text from Jackson.” Douchebaggery Stiles silently added.  
“Derek Hale is competing today.”  
*

 

Derek Hale had not had a good night. As in, his body had barely recognised that it was night. He hadn’t been able to sleep, hadn’t even felt tired. He felt tired now. And Laura was making him get up.  
Derek lived with his sister Laura, four years his senior, in a small, slightly run down house at the very edge of the beach front. The entire ocean was he playground, so it was no wonder that he was being talked about as the next big up and coming surfer. Derek had just turned 21, which was older than he would have liked to be coming into his prime. If things had gone differently he would have had his pro sponsorship in the bag by the time he was sixteen.  
“Derek!” Laura shouted again. “Get your lazy butt out of bed.”  
Derek eventually dragged himself out of his room and went into the kitchen. Laura was reading the newspaper (she claimed she was concerned about keeping up with current events but Derek knew fine rightly that she only got it to read the Lonely Hearts column on the second to last page.) The Hales didn’t believe in computers and the internet, Laura because she was old fashioned at heart, and Derek because he believed that any time not spent outdoors was time wasted.  
“Did you even sleep?” Laura asked, finally looking up.  
“No,” Derek growled. He made himself a cup of coffee and sipped at it, looking out of the window.  
“Coffee will make you anxious.” Laura said, taking the cup from him.  
“No, falling asleep when I’m supposed to be surfing will make me anxious.” Derek snapped, grabbing the cup back from her. Coffee slopped over the side of the cup and landed on the floor. Derek tutted and shook his head.  
“I won’t be able to go today,” Laura said, mopping up the mess. “To watch you surf I mean.”  
Derek ducked his head. “Oh,”  
“I know I said I’d got time off work, but someone called in sick, well actually they’re not sick, but her baby is, so I couldn’t really say no, and Melissa, you know Melissa McCall? She offered to cover, but she’s already doing about triple the amount of shifts she should be doing and anyway I think she’ll probably end up having to cover Hannah cos she gets panic attacks and she’s been really off the past couple of day so I-“  
Derek held up a hand to stop her continuing. “Laura,” he said, his voice flat. “I don’t care.”  
“Okay,” Laura said, and she kept it at that, because she knew deep down that Derek did care.  
“Have some breakfast,” she told him and pushed the fruit bowl towards him. “Or actually,” she said, flicking a glance at the clock. “Brunch.”  
*

Allison Argent got a lift to the beach in her father’s blacked out car. She had her own car and could drive but for some reason, on competition days she just never wanted to. And she kinda liked the drive down with her father as well. They didn’t talk much but there was something companionable about the silence.  
About halfway through the journey down to the beach, Chris cleared his throat.  
“I thought you should know,” he said and he navigated a corner. “Derek Hale’s surfing today.”  
Allison turned to her father, wide eyed. “I thought he was out of town!”  
“Well,” Chris said, through partially gritted teeth, “I guess he came back.”  
Allison slouched back in her seat. “I suppose it is right on his beach,” she said, determined to be fair.  
“It’s a public beach, Allison,” her father said.  
“Dad,” Allison let out a sigh. She did not want to have the whole I- must- hate- Derek- Hale- forever conversation with her father again. Not right now.  
“It’s fine. I’ll stay out of his way.”  
“Good.”  
“Great.”  
“And Allison,” said her father, sounding a little happier now that they had got that sorted out. “Not that you need it, but bonne chance.”  
Allison smiled at him. “Merci beaucoup, Papa,” she said.

Allison found Scott pretty easily on the beach. She could spot his messy hair from miles away.  
“Hi,” she said sliding her arms around his neck. He jumped a little and then pulled her into a slow kiss.  
“You look amazing,” he told her, and she smiled at him. “So do you,” she said with an impish grin. “You look hot.”  
Scott pretended to wipe sweat off his forehead. “I am hot,” he said.  
“Mind if I sit with you and Stiles until I go on?” she asked, sitting down beside him.  
“How’d you know I was with Stiles?”  
“Scott,” said Allison. “There’s a bag stuffed to bursting with a gaming magazine sticking out of it. Who brings a gaming magazine to the beach other than Stiles?”  
Scott gave her a dopey grin. “You could totally be a detective,” he told her. “You know, if you weren’t too busy being an amazing surfer.”

*  
Stiles bought the ice creams and waters from the ice cream vendor when he realized his problem. He had four items and only two hands. Which wouldn't have been that problematic really, except that the ice creams were rapidly turning into ice cream soup. Stiles walked a little bit away from the ice cream stall before admitting defeat. He dumped the waters into the sand and practically inhaled his ice cream whole. This left the melting matter of Scott’s ice cream. It wouldn't be that criminal to eat Scott’s as well. Allison had probably arrived by now and they’d be too busy kissing face to even notice if Stiles turned into a giant ice cream and danced in front of them.  
Besides, he’d have to do something about the ice cream situation and fast, because it was melting like mad, and dripping through his fingers, in fact no- it was slipping through his fingers, and it was going, going, gone.

Stiles watched as the ice cream fell in slow motion and landed on the leg of a bare footed male. Stiles looked up. A scowling bare footed male. Stiles did rapid facial recognition and inwardly gasped. He had just dropped his ice cream one Derek- hecking- Hale.

Derek Hale was something of a legend in Beacon Hills. He wasn’t like, a good legend, like a knight of a king or anything like that. But he wasn’t really a bad legend either, like a troll or something. Perhaps a legend was a bad word to describe him. Enigma! That was the word. Derek Hale was the town enigma. Tragedy followed him like a desperate lover and no one really knew all that much about him which didn’t normally bother people because it you didn’t know much about someone you normally just didn’t care. Not with Derek Hale though. Everyone wanted to know a little bit more about Derek Hale. Stiles supposed it was because everyone thought Derek Hale was a sexy ass muthafucka (he blamed the thirteen year olds of the town for getting that phrase stuck in his head). If Derek had been ugly, no one would have given a crap what he had done.

So here Stiles was. His first introduction to Sexy Ass Muthafucka Derek Hale.  
“Uh, sorry.” Stiles said. “It melted.”  
Derek nodded. “Uhuh,” he said.  
Excellent conversationalist, Stiles noted.  
“I heard you were out of town,” Stiles said, then tried to string a sentence together that would make the former sound less creepy.  
Derek raised his eyebrow. “And I didn’t even think I knew you.” He said, his voice deep with sarcastic concern.  
“You don’t. I’m St-“  
“I don’t care who you are.” Derek said, moving away. “You can let the town gossips know I’m back. I’m sure that will earn you brownie points.”  
“Earn me… I’m not..” Stiles cursed under his breath, grabbed his water bottles and strode back to the relative safety of Scott and Allison. He couldn’t believe he’d just been outsassed by the towns enigma and needed a little time to lick his wounds.


	2. Chapter 2

Allison, Scott and Stiles watched as the under eighteen male heats started and ended. Stiles stifled a yawn. “Why do they make the girls go last?”  
Allison shrugged. “Because we’re the ones worth sticking around for.”  
Scott nodded sagely.  
“Okay,” Stiles said, suddenly irritated, “Could you stop doing that for like two minutes? Please? For me?”  
“Stop what?” Scott asked. Totally oblivious.  
“You and her,” Stiles gestured emphatically with his hands. Allison raised her eyebrow a little at the “her”. “Allison, I mean,” Stiles correctly, then continued with his point. “You back up everything she says and she backs up everything you say. It’s ridiculous.”  
“But Stiles,” Allison made a shocked face. “I am always right.”  
“Yeah, she is. I agree.” Scott said. Agreeing.  
Stiles shook his head sadly. “You are so whipped,” he told his best friend.  
Allison gave Scott a small smile. “Oh yeah,” she said softly. “He is that.”  
They both burst into peals of laughter so Stiles gave them the stink eye and pointedly took out his gaming magazine.  
“It’s under twenty five year old males next.” Allison observed, watching the surfers approach the sea line.  
“Speaking of under twenty five year old males…” Stiles said, placing his magazine down.  
“Oh, we know,” Allison waved her hand dismissively.  
“Know what?”  
“That Derek Hale is here. My Dad told me.”  
“Lydia told us,” Scott reminded him, as if Stiles was likely to forget something Lydia Martin had said to him.  
“Yeah, well, I spilt ice cream on him.” Stiles points an accusing finger at Scott. “In fact, I spilt your ice cream on him. So it’s technically your fault.”  
“I am not accepting responsibility for you being a klutz.”  
“Fine,” Stiles shrug. “It was the ice cream’s fault.”  
“Was there a point to this story?” Allison asked, then smiled so he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. She and Scott had been dating a little over five months now, so while she knew Stiles and liked him, she still wanted to tread a little carefully with him until she knew him better.  
“Yeah,” said Stiles defensively. He thought for a moment.  
“No.”  
Allison nodded like she expected that would be his answer. “Yeah, well my Dad was pretty pissed about it.”  
“Why?” Stiles asked and Scott and Allison exchanged glances.  
“You didn’t tell him?”  
“Why would I tell him?” Scott sounded incredulous.  
Stiles began to feel a little offended.  
“I dunno, I just thought you would have.”  
“We don’t even know Derek, and it’s such a… bad thing to have happened, I just didn’t want to…”  
They were doing their whole stare-into-each-others-eyes-lovingly thing again. Stiles resisted the urge to make barfing noises.  
“I wouldn’t have minded if you had,” Allison was saying now, “but I’m somehow glad you didn’t”  
Stiles raised his hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt but if you’re not going to tell me what you’re talking about, would you mind not talking about as talking about not telling me something is a very mean thing to talk about.”  
Stiles screwed his face up. Did that make sense? His face cleared. Yes. Yes it did.

“Don’t spread it around okay?” Allison gave a quick glance around her to make sure no one was within earshot.  
“I don’t spread anything around. Not even STDs.”  
Scott shot him a look that was equal parts agonized and long suffering.  
“Okay, so basically,” Allison drew in a breath, and Stiles could practically see her working out when best to start the story.  
“I had this cousin called Paige.”  
Stiles picked up on the “had” immediately but didn’t question it because it was obviously the whole point to the story she was about to tell. “Paige was four years older than me, and I completely idolized her, you know, I mean she played the cello from when she was really young, and she was so good at it, but it was more her passion for it that really impressed me. I looked at her doing something that made her so happy and I wanted something like that for myself. That’s why I started surfing. She’s why I started surfing.”  
She looked at Scott and Scott nodded encouragingly at her. Stiles looked ahead at the sea. Surfers were in the water now, the commentator talking so fast all the words were running together.  
“She came to live with us when she was fifteen because her parents separated and her Mom went back to Canada to live there and her Dad had to travel a lot for work, and she just wanted a family again and to not be left alone so much. It was great. It was so so great having her there, we were better than sisters really, because we barely fought and we were so different but so that same and…”  
Allison inhaled, and Scott grabbed her hand and squeezed it.  
“Look,” said Stiles, feeling bad. It was a beautiful day, and he had just forced Allison to tell what he felt was going to be a horrible story. Although he had to admit he was intrigued.  
“No, it’s fine,” Allison insisted, forcing a smile. “It’s just- anyway. So that was six years ago. What other notable thing happened six years ago?”  
Stiles racked his brain for about half a second. “The Hale House Fire.”  
“Yeah, so Paige met Derek around then, and they got together really fast and fell in love really quickly. I remember my Mom and my Dad were really worried because Derek had lost so many people and they didn’t want him to become overly dependant on Paige in case it didn’t work out or something. But they didn’t see what I saw. I mean, they were perfect for each other. And they were so, so in love. Derek actually became very close to our family over the one and half years they were together. My parents had got to the stage where they were joking about them getting married and stuff.”  
Stiles gave a low whistle under his breath.  
“Then, about a week or so before Christmas, they were heading up North to some romantic log cabin, it was expensive but Paige said it was worth it because it was Derek’s birthday and Christmas present all at the same time, because his birthdays on Christmas eve or something.” Allison shook her head slightly as she lost her train of thought.  
“There was an accident on the way there. Derek was driving. He lost control of the car. Officially, it was because they went over black ice. The conditions were really bad. But at the funeral Derek told us he’d lost control of the car because he’d been distracted. He’d been trying to impress Paige. He took his eyes of the road, and his carelessness got Paige killed. My mom wanted to go to the police, but my Dad didn’t let her. He was furious with Derek though. Still is. Probably will be forever.”  
Allison sighed, then sagged back a little into Scott’s arms, as if talking about it had taken all her energy from her.  
“Shit,” said Stiles, running a hand over his eyes, “That’s… I’m sorry about your sis- cousin.”  
“My siscousin,” repeated Allison, a faraway look in her eyes.  
“Sousin,” suggested Scott.  
“A sousin’s someones whose your son and cousin.” Stiles said. “You know, like incest. Inbreeding.”  
“Not my sousin then,” Allison said with a small, sad smile. “Just Paige, then. Just Paige.”

 

                                                                                                                    *

 

Derek Hale got out of the water, catching his breath and scanning the beach. The crowd seemed to be abuzz, and a group of girls to his left who were squealing and throwing him sultry glances at him under their eyelashes. Derek ignored them and headed off down the beach. They weren’t going to release the results of the competition until after the girls heats. He grabbed his grey towel from his spot on the beach, and considered staying down, to watch the other competitors and to soak up the atmosphere. A quick glance around him confirmed to him that this would not be a good idea.

A redhead with a camera crew was pacing up and down a couple of hundred metres away from him, her eyes narrowed as she sought out her next victim to question.

Derek shook himself from his thoughts. That was probably an unfair thing to think. Most of these guys loved talking to Lydia Martin.

But Derek knew what he was worth to someone like Lydia Martin, who prided herself on getting the surfers back-story out on air, to bring back the personal side of surfing or some such crap like that when everyone knew that the whole point of surfing was just to surf.

Lydia turned and spotted him, her nose crinkling like a bloodhound who had caught the scent of an exclusive story.

Derek got the hell out of there.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Scott rang Stiles at 11:30pm. Stiles was watching a nature documentary about Madagascar whilst eating a cheese sandwich and trying to retune his radio to the cops frequency. His father was working his fourth late night in a row that week and Stiles wanted to check in on him. By listening anonymously. To crimes.

He answered his mobile on the third ring, not even bothering to check caller I.D. It was only ever Scott or his father who rang him, and his Dad always rang him on the house phone, which always struck Stiles as mildly insulting- his father could at least pretend Stiles had some sort of social life.  
“Scottie,” Stiles greeted, and shoved the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth.  
“What are you eating?” Scott asked, sounding almost jealous. That boy was always hungry. Stiles could understand why. With a mom like Melissa McCall who cooked the cook she cooked, you would want to be hungry all the time.  
“Cheese sandwich,” Stiles said, spilling crumbs down himself.  
Scott didn’t sound very impressed. “Uh, right well so I was thinking, and you know what I was thinking?”  
“I don’t think so,” Stiles turned down the TV a notch.  
“I was thinking… We haven’t been for a midnight surf in a while!”  
There was a pause.  
“Scott,” Stiles said slowly, “We’ve never been for a midnight surf.”  
“Exactly,” Scott exclaimed. “Which is why we should go tonight!”  
Stiles thought it over. “Was this Allison’s idea?”  
“Nooooo,” Scott protested, unconvincingly. “Well, she did mention something about it earlier after she placed second, you know to just chill and celebrate, but now her Dad’s dragging her to some family thing so can’t but the idea’s kinda stuck in my head. Like I feel I need to go, you know, like I physically can’t sleep until I do go and- Stiles? Stiles, are you still there?”  
Stiles had made the culinary decision to make another sandwich.  
“Still here,” he said, swiping the phone off the countertop.  
“So you’ll come then?”  
Stiles opened his mouth. He had at least twenty different things he could say to Scott to talk him out of this crazy idea, starting with “I don’t surf” and ranging to “I don’t want to get eaten by a shark this particular evening,” but something held him back. He looked around the empty kitchen and made up his mind.  
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll leave now,” and Scott didn’t sound at all surprised , like he’d known all along that Stiles was going to agree to it.  
Stiles hung up and sighed.  
He had a feeling it was going to be an interesting night.

 

                                                                                                                                         *

Stiles point blank refused to go into the water. He was fine with the mini campfire they had made at the waters edge and quite content to sit there shoving marshmallows down his mouth like they were going out of fashion.

“Stiles!” Scott was exasperated. “The whole point of a night swim is that you are supposed to _swim_.”

Stiles opened his mouth immediately, ready with his retort of “One, I can’t surf and two, it’s not midnight anymore,” before realising that Scott had sneakily changed the name of “Midnight Surf” to the less specific “Night Swim.”

Stiles shut his mouth and changed the subject. “So, I saw your Dad hanging around at the surf contest.”

One look at Scott’s face and Stiles wished he hadn’t said a word. Scott dropped his head.

“I know,” he said, his voice low. “I saw him too. I think he’s after Derek Hale.”  
”As in, wants to sponsor Derek Hale?” Stiles shook his head contemptuously. Scott’s father was one of the few true assholes he had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Scott had a battered, broken surfboard and Mr McCall had plenty of cash, but that cash had never seem to have made it’s way down to Scott. The two had barely spoken in years, which wasn’t usually a problem as Mr McCall was normally far away from Beacon Hills and Scott could just deny his exist. When Scott’s father was in town, the absence of a relationship between the two became glaringly obvious, and made ten times worse by him going around handing out sponsorships when he knew full well that’s what Scott ached for.

“What an asshole,” Stiles declared to the empty beach, and Scott raised a marshmallow in agreement.

“I don’t blame him though,” Scott said, chewing.

Stiles threw him a thoroughly confused look.

“For wanting to sponsor Derek, I mean. He’s a great surfer.”

The two sat in silence for a time, watching the fire as it blew itself out and listening to the waves lapping against the rocks. Stiles felt his eyes grow heavy and his muscles relaxed, and before he knew it he was sprawled out on the sand. Fast asleep.

 

 

Stiles was rudely awakened by someone shaking him violently.

“Whu-uhh,” Stiles moaned, his mouth thick with sleep. He was disorientated but judging by the sound of the waves he was still at the beach. It was just beginning to get light which meant he could just about make out the figure standing in front of him.

“Derek?” Stiles squinted. “Why the hell did you just wake me up? I was having an amazing dream.”  
Derek pratically snarled at him. “I woke you up because your drunken ass of a friend very nearly just drowned.”

Stiles moved around Derek and caught sight of Scott bent double in the beach, retching into the sand.

“I- uh, is he okay?” Sties asked, flicking his glances between his friend and Derek.

“Do you have any idea how stupid it is to go into the water drunk? Or to go into the ocean at night? Do you know how dangerous it is to do both these unbelievably stupid things at the same time?”

Stiles processed this outburst. “Scott wasn’t drunk.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, and looked so pissed off that Stiles automatically took a step backwards in case he lashed out at him. “You don’t believe that he’s drunk? Go within about a metre of him and you’ll be able to smell the alcohol coming off him.”

Stiles went over to Scott.

“You okay, man?” he asked, sitting down beside him. Scott turned his head and Stiles caught the unmistakable stench of alcohol. _Crap_ , thought Stiles. He turned around to where Derek was standing, expecting to see a smug look on his face or for him to shout some more.

But Derek had gone.

 

 

                                                                                                                     *

 

 Derek was hoping to crawl into bed and crash out, but the lights were still on in the kitchen by the time he got back and he could see Laura sitting at the table, a mug of coffee in her hands. Derek considered sneaking in the back door, but a cheery wave from Laura (which was at odds with the annoyed expression on her face) told him he wasn’t going to get out of having a conversation tonight.

Derek sighed and pulled open the door. He walked into the kitchen, blinking in the bright lights.

“It’s late,” Laura said, putting her mug down on the table.

Derek shrugged. “Very observant.”

Laura scowled at him. “It’s dangerous out there at this time.”

Derek almost laughed. “Yeah, well, I needed to clear my head.”

Laura rose from her seat. “I heard you won.”

“Yeah,” Derek said, and looked at her.

“That guy, McCall was round here earlier. He was waiting by the front door when I got back from my shift.”

Derek yawned. “Odd,” he said.

“He wants to sponsor you Derek. He said you completely shut him down.”

Derek nodded. “McCall’s a prick.”

Laura threw up her hands in exasperation. “Derek, you need sponsorship. You need to get in with a surf company or whatever the hell you call it, if you want to continue doing what you love. Can’t you see that?”

Derek headed to the sink and downed a glass of water before replying. “I’m not sure I want sponsorship. Or to join a team.”

Laura moved to stand beside him. She was tired, Derek noticed with a start. She deserved better than this life here with him.

“Why not?” she asked, keeping her voice soft.

Derek clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to deal with all the publicity. The media. They will drag up everything bad that’s ever happened and they will ruin surfing for me. So I don’t want it.”

“Derek…” Laura pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

“I’m going to bed,” Derek pushed past her, and she listening to his angry steps up the stairs, the sound of the bedsprings as he collapsed into bed.

Laura stared out of the window, her reflection staring back at her. She wondered; as she often did at moments like now _how did it end up like this?_

 

                                                                                                                                           *

 

 

Scott was, to mildly put it, in big trouble. His mom had not been at all impressed to see him wind up in the ER, accompanied by a worried looking Stiles. After Scott got checked over and was officially diagnosed as “stupid but okay”, Melissa sent Stiles a look that caused him to get off from the chair so face that it ended toppling over, and muttering his goodbyes to Scott, sending a sympathetic glance over his shoulder.

Now Scott was sitting in the car with his Mom, who looked on the verge of tears. Scott felt guilty. And like he was going to vomit.

Melissa didn’t say anything the whole ride home, which Scott was glad about because he felt that if he opened his mouth sick would pool out.

Melissa strode into the house without a second look at Scott who fumbled with his seatbelt and gulped back huge breaths of fresh air, then vomited on the patch of grass in front of the house. Old Mr Wallander, who lived opposite them walked past on the sidewalk and gave Scott a look of disgust. Scott weakly raised one hand.

When Scott had finished he made his way up to the house. A mop and bucket were balanced on the doorstep, and his mother was at the door window her arms folded.

Scott got the message, loud and clear. Trying to be sick while cleaning up his own sick was going to be challenge but he knew he deserved it.

Melissa handed him a bottle of water when Scott finally came back into the house. She had changed out of her hospital scrubs and into what she described as a “lazy day clothes”- oversized hoodie, leggings, slipper socks.

“Uh, thanks?” Scott said sheepishly. Mrs McCall patted the couch. “Sit,” she said, so Scott sat.

“Mom,” he began, after the silence lasted too long a moment. “I’m really sorry, I know it was really stupid, I just-“

Melissa held up a hand. “Two things I want to say right now. One, your punishment is no surfing at all for a week. Then after that week is completed, you are only allowed to surf Friday, Saturdays and Sundays during the daytime. And if I ever find out you’ve been drinking alcohol…” Melissa made the sort of face that made sure Scott would never want to know the consequences would be for him if he drank alcohol.

Scott sipped at the water. As punishments went, it wasn’t awful. Besides, he thought mournfully, his board had snapped into three pieces and was lying on the beach somewhere so it’s not like he would have been able to go surfing straight away anyway.

“Two,” Melissa continued, once she was sure that Scott had digested his punishment. “Why did you drink?”

“Uh, I was thirsty,” Scott tried to put a smile on his mothers face.

“Too soon, Scott,” Melissa snapped, shaking her head. “This is not a joke. So answer the question.”

Scott ran his hands through his hair. “Dad’s back in town.”

Melissa’s sharp intake of breath made it clear to Scott that this was the first she’d heard about it. “That son of a- He’s supposed to ring when he’s in town. Or at the very least text!” Melissa narrowed her eyes. “Did he talk to you.”

Scott slumped back against the sofa, feeling defeated. “No,” he said, “I kinda… I kinda waved at him and I know he saw but he completed blanked me.”

Melissa struggled not to let out a string of expletives.

“Do you know why he’s in town?”

Scott shrugged. “It was that surfing show. I saw him approach Derek Hale.”

Melissa gave a snort of triumph. “He’s not going to get anywhere with Derek Hale.”

Scott lifted his head. “Why not?”

Melissa laughed. “Trust me on this on Scott,” she said, and patted him on the head. A though suddenly occurred to her. “Stiles have your surfboard.”

Scott thought of his poor divided up surfboard, alone on the beach. “No,” he said, not quite meeting his mother’s eyes. “It broke. In the ocean.”

“When you were drunk,” Melissa finished for him, and Scott winced. Melissa suddenly brightened. “I’m going to get hold of your father,” she said determinedly, “and I am going to _demand_ he buys you a new surfboard.”

Scott nearly fell off the sofa in shock. “Really?” he gaped.

“Why the heck not,” Melissa said dismissively, and then frowned. “This probably doesn’t seem like much of a punishment. But you are to complete your punishment Scott.”  
Scott nodded sagely.

“Goodnight Scott.”

“Night Mom.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“I am beyond glad that we get off for summer next week,” Allison said to Lydia, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Lydia examined her nails.   
“Why? Busy?” Lydia asked innocently.  
Allison rolled her eyes. “Just a little. Homework, surfing, Scott… And my Dad wants to take me to some archery class after school.”  
“Archery?”  
Allison closed her locker. “I know. I’ve no idea why he decided on archery. He feels we don’t spend enough time together. He says he didn’t want to take me shopping because he knows I hate it…”  
Lydia spun around on her heels. “Excuse me, missy,” she said, pursing her lips. “You do not hate shopping. You have never hated shopping. You definitely have not hated shopping with me on our last six shopping trips.”  
Allison bit her lip and looked down with a smile. “Shopping with you is different, though.”  
“Fabulous,” Lydia suggested. “Yeah,” Allison laughed. “Shopping with you is fabulous. Whereas shopping with my Dad would be… military. Precise. A severe lack of browsing”  
Lydia nodded for a moment. “So he thought archery would be a good alternative.”  
“Looks like it,” Allison sighed. “I just know I’m going to suck at it though.  
Lydia looked Allison up and down. “Hmmm…” she said thoughtfully. “I wouldn't be so sure about that. In fact,” she said, bumping shoulders with her friend. “I have a feeling your going to be a natural at it.”

 

“I’ve been thinking,” said Scott at lunchtime.  
Stiles slapped himself on the head. “Oh god, Scott no. Please don’t be thinking again. You thinking never has good results!”   
Scott waited for him to finish and then continued. “It was actually my Mom’s idea.”  
Stiles sat up. “Your Mom has quite good ideas,” he allowed. “Normally.”  
Scott nodded. “So she heard from Laura Hale that he’s going on this tour around with his new team, kind of like an introduction thing. For publicity or something.”  
“Okaaay,” Stiles said slowly. “And?”  
“And my Mom reckons she can guilt trip him into taking up along! I mean we’ll have to help a bit- like with looking after the equipment and stuff, but just imagine, a months holiday, fully paid.” Scott looked at Stiles a little worriedly. “Do you not want go man? I said I’d only go if you’d go, and I really want to go but-“  
Stiles held up a hand to stop him. “You want to go on a month long trip with your father. Who you hate.”  
Scott looked at Stiles like he was mad. “He’s barely going to be there. And there are tons of other people going as well.”  
“So why would your father pay for the two of us to go.”  
Scott waved his hand. “My Mom, I told you!”  
“Not to doubt your Mom or anything but how is she planning on achieving this? I mean, that would have to be the guilt trip of the century.”  
Scott’s brow furrowed. “She didn’t give me details, because she said that guilt tripping and manipulating someone into doing something that they probably wouldn’t normally do is bad, but she said she’ll threaten to go to the press and talk about what a worthless, pathetic… anyway, I think she’s got it all worked out.”  
He looked at Stiles expectantly. “So, what’d ya say?”  
“What do I say about this extremely hypothetical, improbable scenario?” Stiles thought about it. What was he planning to do this summer? Play video games, hang out with Scott, play video games… “Fine,” Stiles grumbled, almost to himself. “If your mom manages to pull this off, then yes. Yes I will go.”  
Scott beamed. “This is going to be the best summer ever.”

 

 

 

“SportLine TV are going to interview you,” McCall said, sipping at his coffee in the stupid oversized marble office he had rented in Beacon Hills for the duration of his stay.   
Derek shot him a vicious look. “Have you not been hearing the things I’ve been saying to you this past week?”  
McCall sighed and leaned forward. Derek pulled back. Beside him, Laura rolled her eyes. With these two, it was a power struggle that went back and forth, back and forth. It was making her weary.  
“Derek, I’ve made a lot of allowances for you. We’ve agreed you only have to do one interview per country you’re in, plus a 30 second interview after your comps. This is just a baby interview, a practice one. It’s nothing.”  
“If it’s nothing,” Derek asked, shifting in his seat, “then why do I have to do it?”  
McCall looked pointedly at Laura and then got up. “I’ll give you two a little time to discuss things. The interviews in four hours. I’ll come back in two.”

Laura let out a strangled groan once he had left the room. “Derek,” she said, “You agreed…”  
Derek crossed his arm. Truth is, he had agreed. McCall had drawn up a contract, he had signed it. It was the best deal he was going to get. Laura had nagged him and nagged him until he rang McCall’s number again. She asked him what he was planning on doing with his life, and left Derek by himself with his thoughts and lack of answer. The next day he dug out the business card and rang the cell number. McCall hadn’t sounded too happy to hear from him.  
“I can’t afford to have someone who’s going to waste my time.”  
“I won’t,” Derek found himself promising.   
“There are about a hundred other guys I could choose over you,” McCall told him flatly, and right there Derek saw how quickly he could have missed out, how quickly this opportunity could have slipped through his fingers.   
Derek met McCall for coffee two days later. They had had two business meetings to straighten things out, and they were leaving for the tour in a week.   
“It’s just one interview, Derek.” Laura pointed out. “And it will only last ten minutes max.” Laura was trying to reassure Derek, but truth be told she felt ambivalent about him doing interviews. God knew Derek wasn’t much of a talker; it was only because she had known him all his life that she was able to pick up the subtle clues in his body language and tones that told a bigger story than his words ever could.

McCall came back in two hours later and handed Derek a shirt and a green tie. Derek took them without a word, but aimed death stares at McCall’s back.   
The interview was taking place in a small wooden hut by the seafront. There was a small wooden table artfully decorated with two coconuts and shells arranged into a smiley face. Derek snorted, and sat down, while a make up artist came over and started daubing something on his face.  
“So you’re Derek Hale,” she said, a wide smile on her face.  
“Yeah,” Derek said, and felt his throat inexplicitly begin to close up. Calm down, he told himself. If he couldn’t handle simple human interaction, how was he going to handle an interview?”  
“Awesome,” the girl said. “Jackson’s a great guy, I’m sure he’ll make you feel right at home.”  
Derek jerked his head to look at her and the girl pouted. “Jackson?” For some reason he had assumed he was being interviewed by Lydia Martin. He personally thought they were both annoying, vain narcissists but he also thought that Lydia was the lesser of two evils.   
“Yeah,” the girl smiled. “He’s so good. I’m Miranda by the way,” she said, as if Derek actually cared. “You’re really hot.”   
Derek rolls his eyes, and he can pratically feel Laura’s eyes on him, smirking. She’s lurking at the side of the set, thoroughly enjoying watching her little brother being smothered with make up.   
“Ten minutes til we’re live,” an overeager bespectacled guy yells, and Derek tries to block it out, block out all the commotion like he does when he surfs, and just focus on getting through this goddamned interview. 

 

*

“Why are we watching this again?” Stiles grumbles to Scott, a bowl of popcorn on his lap as Scott switches to the local channel, where SportLine TV are boasting an exclusive interview with “Sexy, Surf Star Derek Hale.”  
“You’re only watching this because he saved your life” Stiles points out, then brightens up momentarily at the thought that he might see Lydia Martin onscreen.  
“No I’m not,” Scott denies, “It’s interesting. He hasn’t done an interview. Ever.”  
Stiles throws a piece of popcorn at the direction of his mouth and pumps his fist in the air when he successfully catches it. “He’s not pro yet, so why would he be doing interviews in the first place? I don’t get it.”  
“Don’t get what?” Sheriff Stilinski asked, coming into the kitchen/ living room and setting down a file of papers.  
“Derek Hale,”  
Sheriff Stilinski glanced at the TV. “He’s with a team now? Good for him.”  
“It’s starting,” said Scott, and he turned up the volume.  
“Dude,” Stiles looked towards Scott, who had full possession of the remote. “This is my house.”   
Scott ignored him and his Dad just shrugged as if to say not my problem. Stiles turned huffily towards the TV screen and settled on the sofa.  
“And we’re live from the Harmonious Hut,” said a ridiculously chiselled muscular guy who had a face that made you want to slap him. “Jackson Douchebaggery!” Stiles exclaimed.   
Stile’s Dad looked up. “Stiles,” he said, scribbling furiously on a file block. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”  
“It is,” Stile’s protested. “Tell him Scott,”  
“Totally necessary,” agreed Scott.  
“That,” said Stiles, pointing at the scream, “Is the face of evil.”  
The face of evil smiled smarmily at the camera. “Today we have been granted an exclusive interview with Derek Hale.”  
The camera panned out, and Derek was revealed to be sitting beside Jackson.  
“He looks a little… rigid,” Stiles observed.  
Scott shushed him.  
“Locally Derek Hale is known for many things besides his surfing, but for those of you not in the know, here are some quick facts about the up and coming surfer sitting beside him.”  
Scott had been right. This was interesting. Derek was obviously at edge sitting in the hut. But he was sitting beside Jackson, which couldn’t be a pleasant experience.  
“Derek Hale was one of three survivors of the tragic Hale House fire which occurred six years ago.” Jackson’s eyebrows went up in a symbol of tragic respect. “Derek, would you say that the death of basically your entire family caused you to focus on your surfing more.”  
“Holy hell,” Scott said. Derek looked like he was going to murder Jackson. The camera had zoomed way into Derek’s face, and it was clear he was having some kind of internal battle with himself.  
“No,” he bit out eventually, which obviously wasn’t the answer Jackson was looking for because he poked and prodded some more.   
“Do you think your family, in particular your mother Talia would be proud of the direction you have gone in. From what I understand,” Jackson consulted his flashcards, “You were left a significant amount of money in your trust fund that would suggest she expected you to go out and get yourself a degree.”  
Derek went dead silent for an uncomfortable twenty seconds. “Do your parents, in particular your mother regret adopting you because you’ve turned out to be such an asshole?”  
“Woah!” Stiles exclaimed, abandoning all attempts to eat his popcorn. “Shit’s about to go down!”  
His father too had abandoned the pretense of doing his work and was staring at the screen so intently he didn’t even pick up on Stile’s swearing.   
Jackson fixed Derek with an unpleasantly aggressive look. “Ladies, and gentlemen, those of you with a crush on the delightful Mr Hale here, please remember that he got his last girlfriend killed, and that he-“  
Derek cracked Jackson on the jaw with a punch so powerful it made Stiles and Scott wince from the sofa. Sheriff Stilinski gave a slow whistle. Jackson disappeared from screen, and the credits quickly started rolling.   
“Crap,” Sheriff Stilinski said. “I might have to go arrest Hale for assault now.”


	5. Chapter 5

Laura hurried after her younger brother, who was walking so fast a flurry of sand flew up with every step. All hell had broken lose after the punch. Jackson had sworn, his face the color of beetroot, and the overweight guy who was the producer of the whole shambolic interview was looking pretty happy about the entire thing. His mouth was saying, “C’mon guys, calm down, we can’t have any talk like this in here, this is the harmonious hut,” but his eyes were lit up with the greed of somebody who knew that the scrap and insults and angst had turned that interview into TV gold.  
McCall had stood in the sidelines, trying to usher Derek to come and talk it out with him, but Derek, predictably had given him a murderous look but thankfully hadn’t said anything that could be considered sack worthy insulting.   
Laura knew better than to try and get Derek to stay and talk it over. Whilst most people had a flight or fight instinct built in, Derek had a fight then flight instinct. Laura liked to think it was only when Derek felt that in order to get to the flight part he had to fight his way to it, in instances when he felt trapped or cornered, for example the sorry scenario that had just taken place, but sometimes she worried that a little piece of him enjoyed the violence and unpredictability of a fight.   
Derek had slowed his pace a little now, and Laura jogged to catch up with him. When she was beside him, Laura sneaked a glance at his face. Derek was looking straight ahead, his eyes intense but faraway, his mouth set in an angry, thin line. Laura was quiet, and she waited for him to explode. I told you this was a stupid idea/ I’m not going to join this dumb-ass tour/ I fucking hate the media.   
When Derek did finally speak, the words he said were unexpected, and all the more heartbreaking for it.  
“I always mess everything up,” he said, and then without giving her time even to really register the words, he took off again, running flat out across the beach, as if by running so fast, and so hard he could outrun the ghosts of his past, the memories that shadowed his nightmares. 

 

Allison strung the last arrow on her bow, and aimed at the target. She could feel her father’s gaze on her his smug, pleased smile. Lydia had been right. She was a natural. The boy teaching Mr Argent and Allison was college age; he had a skinhead and narrow, piercing eyes. As soon as Mr Argent had gone to get a drink, he had asked her out.  
“Uh, no offence, but no thanks,” Allison had said, with a small giggle.  
“Aw, why not?” The boy had persisted, leaning in just a little too close as he showed her how to draw the string back.  
“Because,” Allison took a step forward. “I just don’t want to.”  
The boy nodded his head knowingly. “Boyfriend, huh?”   
Allison wanted to aim the bow at him. Or, more specifically, the arrow. Some people couldn’t take no for an answer, it couldn’t just be oh, no I don’t want to, there always had to be someone or something in the way. It was such bullshit. She thought of Scott, his eagerness, his kindness, but most of all how he respected her as a person, and her as a woman.   
“Actually,” she said to skinhead. “I’m a lesbian. Guys like you put me off the entire male race.”  
Her father made his way over then, his eyes scanning over the situation, and although he didn’t say anything, his voice was cooler when he next spoke to the boy, and he made it clear he wouldn't be leaving the two of them alone again.  
After a while though, Allison forgot about the boy and her father and just shot arrows. There was such a grace to it, and she felt a surge of power with each arrow she loaded up.  
By the end of the session, she turned to her father, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration.   
“Thanks Dad,” she said to him, meaning it. “That was great. Really.” Chris smiled at his daughter. “If you weren’t so busy surfing, maybe you could take up archery?” Chris ventured.  
Allison laughed, knowing that she had to focus on her surfing right now.  
“Maybe in another life Dad,” she said.

 

Lydia flicked off the TV, and grabbed her phone. Jackson’s phone was ringing, but he wasn’t picking up. It was over two hours since the interview had aired, Lydia had been out in meetings, but she had recorded it out of loyalty (and for Derek Hale’s face, if she was being totally honest.) She tried three more times, before deciding upon a different strategy. She grabbed her green coat from her wardrobe, and applied some red lipstick. Jackson hated the red lipstick, it always got on him too, and stained him like Lydia had claimed him, but she wanted to wear it tonight because it would make him insult her, and then he would feel a bit better and feel more normal. 

Do your parents, in particular your mother regret adopting you because you’ve turned out to be such an asshole?  
Lydia knew Jackson would be upset about this question, even if he pretended not to. Jackson liked talking about a lot of aspects of his life- his flash car, his fancy house, his awesome clothes, but he was less inclined about how he had received them- his adoptive parents.

Lydia had met Jackson’s parents several times, and liked them, although there was something about them that Lydia couldn't quite work out. She felt almost as though they were made out of Plasticine, their thin, fleshy faces stretching and morphing to fit whoever happened to be on the other side of the door. Lydia found it difficult to get to know them, and from the way Jackson talked about them (which he seldom did) she always got the impression that they were… distant. They said all the right things, and did all of the right things (although in Lydia’s honest opinion, she felt like they had spoiled Jackson just a tad) but there was something emotional lacking, something that they just didn't have, and just couldn't fake.   
Lydia sighed, and drove round to Jackson’s. His parents’ car wasn't there, which was hardly a surprise. They had almost as good a social life as she did.   
Lydia let herself in. Jackson had given him a key the night he had told her he loved her, and the key helped to cement the words. The key said I trust you; the key was the physical representation of Lydia being given access to his emotions. Lydia rolled her eyes at herself. She was no good at metaphors. She spotted his phone on the hall mantelpiece, flashing with missed calls and messages. She wasn’t the only one trying to get hold of him.  
Lydia padded up the stairs. All the lights were on, making the house seem alive and warm, when in reality inside it was cold and empty. Lydia paused and shivered. A tiny part of her felt scared and she suddenly felt like she should go down the stairs again and into her car and drive away. Pretend like she’d never been here.

Probably she was just tired. She’d been having odd dreams lately, of archers sending flaming arrows into a net, of crescent moons and blood. Lydia put her hand on Jackson’s door and pulled it open.

She stood stock- still at what she saw.   
Jackson was in bed with another woman. They were fast asleep, nestled into one another. Lydia took a step backwards, feeling sick.  
They were sleeping together like they belonged together. Like they fitted.

As quietly as she had come into the house, Lydia exited, and drove a couple of streets away before parking her car on a deserted corner.   
She turned her headlights off.  
Then she screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

Allison was surprised when Lydia rang her doorbell early the next morning. Her father had answered the door, a hard, wary look on his face like he was expecting bad news. Her mother had followed him, looking immaculate as always. Allison had lingered on the second floor, yawning. They hadn’t got back til late last night and she was still half asleep.  
Her father swung open the door, and at the sight of Lydia he visibly relaxed. Her mother raised and eyebrow, and then in perfect unison they both swiveled round and looked pointedly at Allison.  
“What? Allison asked, then Lydia pushed past her parents. She heard her murmur “Mr Argent, Mrs Argent,” without meeting their eyes, and she stopped in the center of the foyer and looked up at Allison. The lack of eye contact with Allison's parents, especially her father sent alarm bells ringing. Lydia normally faux flirted with her father at any given opportunity.  
“I need your help,” she said, her voice husky.  
Allison nodded, and ran down the steps to take hold of Lydia’s hand and hurry her up to her room. Before she closed her bedroom door, she heard her mother’s voice, loud and cutting, slicing through the silence like a knife. “Probably a make up emergency.”  
Allison glanced at Lydia to gauge whether she had heard or not, but Lydia seemed to be in some kind of a trance, perched at the very edge of Allison’s bed, twisting something around in her hand.  
“Lydia,” Allison said, sitting beside her. “What’s… Is everything alright?”  
Lydia stared straight ahead as she answered her tone flat. “Jackson’s been cheating on me.”  
Allison did a double take. She wasn’t Jackson’s biggest fan; he was charming when he wanted to be, but too snide and overconfident for her liking. But Jackson and Lydia were a thing. They had always been a couple. She had expected them to be a couple forever.  
Allison chose her next words carefully. “Are you sure?”  
“I saw them together.” Lydia held up the item she had been fiddling with. It was a key. “I went round to his house, to try and comfort him. And there they were. In his bed.”  
Allison’s eyes widened. “You walked in on them having sex?!”  
Lydia sighed, and finally looked at Allison. “No. But in a way what they were doing was even worse. If they had been having sex I could have pretended to myself that it was a one off. But seeing them like that… he’s been seeing her for a while.” Lydia shivered.  
“But you can’t know that,” Allison reasoned.   
“I can,” said Lydia, her voice sad. “I know Jackson. I knew Jackson. But not anymore. This is why I need you.” Lydia clicked her fingers and pointed at her.  
“I want you to be my rebound.”  
Allison burst into helpless giggles. “Lydia,” she said between laughs. “As hot as I’m sure that would be I know for a fact that’s not why you’re here.”  
Lydia managed a smile. “It would be super hot,” she shrugged. “You’re right though, that’s not why I need you. Today at school, we are going to be the most fabulous people in it. So,” Lydia held up a duffel bag. “Let’s begin.”

 

Stiles jaw just about dropped off his head when he saw Lydia Martin at school in the morning. She and Allison were leaning nonchantly against the school doors, calmly acknowledging pretty much the entire student bodies appreciative looks. Scott bounded up to Allison, a huge grin on his face. He swept her up in a movie star embrace, tilting her to the side and smooching her lips. Stiles rolled his eyes. Such PDA. So early in the morning.   
Lydia began to strut her way in Stiles direction. Stiles looked widely around him. Maybe she was coming to talk to… Cole? Adrianna?   
“I’m right here,” Lydia said, her voice hot against his ear.  
“Awa ooh hi,” Stiles said, feeling extremely flustered. He knew that Lydia was best friends with Allison and he was best friends with Scott and somehow this made up some little friendship equation with little rules but still… Lydia Martin!  
“I… uh… did you want something?” Stiles asked, because Lydia was staring intently at him, like she was trying to puzzle him out.   
“Yes,” said Lydia, linking arms with him. “I want you to be my friend.”

“Dude” said Scott as they jumped into Stile’s jeep. “Lydia Martin asked you to be her friend?”  
Stiles stretched contently on his seat. Lydia had talked to him, properly talked to him for the first time in her life. She asked him what he liked doing, what movies he liked (Star Wars obviously), and he in return had asked her, finding out in the process that Lydia Martin was not an ice queen locked in a castle but actually a smart, intuitive (slightly scathing) person who he felt he could spend time with now without getting completely verbally tripped up by her beautiful looks.  
“She did say, categorically that she’d never date me though,” Stiles said, starting up the car.  
“Oh, well… Eh,” Scott said, grimacing. “But friends is better than nothing, right?”  
Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulder. “Scotty, my friend, that is indeed true. Indeed true,” he agreed, as he whizzed out of the school parking lot. 

 

Derek sat in his bedroom, perched on the windowsill. It was raining, which was quite rare for Beacon Hills at the beginning of summertime. He watched as the rivulets of rain ran down the window, each drop racing each other for pole position.   
In a week he would be going on the surf tour, drumming up publicity for the new surf team. The team had been named Navigate for some reason- McCall had assured him that it was an excellent name for a surf team, full of deeply hidden reason, and Derek had grunted to pretend like he actually cared.  
He hadn’t met any of the new team, but McCall had dropped their names into several conversations, as if he thought Derek would start to think of them as acquaintances just because he had their names. There was some guy name Boyd and a girl named Erica. From the way McCall talked about them, they already knew each other. McCall also had some reserve surfers on the team- people he was bringing along to give them a chance, and if they did well enough in the competitions then they had a shot at making it onto the permanent team. McCall hadn’t actually said it, but the way he emphasised the reserve team when he was telling Derek about them, he understood what he was getting at: these guys do well enough and their on the team, you do crap, and you’re out. 

Derek heard a car pull up, and an exchange of goodbyes. He watched his sister as she made her way up to the house shielding her head with her bag. As soon as she got into the house she called him down. “DEREK!”  
Derek loped downstairs.   
“Yup?”  
“Sit down, I bought food.” Laura pushed a paper bag full of food towards him. Derek took it a peered inside. Healthy food, so that was something.  
Laura sat opposite Derek and began shoveling food onto her plate and gulping it down. Derek picked at the salad.  
“You not hungry?” Laura asked, her mouth full of food. Derek shook his head.  
“More for me then, I guess,” Laura said glibly, but she was worried. She knew Derek hadn’t slept last night, she doubted he had slept today, now he wasn’t eating. Something was up, besides his run in with Jackson, and she was determined, in her trademark subtle way, to find out what.  
“What’s wrong Derek?”  
Derek traced the lines on his hands. “Why do you think something’s wrong?” He didn’t look up.  
“Because you look sad, Der.”  
Derek looked at her.   
“It’s just my resting face,” he said, trying to make light of it.  
“You’re anxious about something,” Laura prompted. “Derek, please tell me I can help.”  
“You don’t always have to, though,” Derek said quietly.  
“Of course I do, Derek,” Laura said, suddenly frustrated. “Of course I do! That’s my job!”  
Now Derek looked furious. “No it’s not!”  
It’s our mother’s job Laura added silently.   
Laura threw up her hands in anger. “Put on your shoes,” she said in the tone of voice that meant no messing around.  
Derek narrowed his eyes. “Why?”  
“We’re going to see Mrs McCall. If you can’t talk to me about what’s bothering you, you can talk to her. You have to tell somebody.”  
Laura stared her brother down. He kept her gaze, his eyes steady, then dropped them, defeated.   
“Fine.”


	7. Chapter 7

Scott was settling on the sofa to watch some dumb disaster movie featuring even dumber characters. Scott loved a good disaster movie, when everything that could go wrong did go wrong normally due to the stupidity of the characters.  
His mom had collapsed in the armchair beside him. She had bagsied it while they were eating dinner. It had to be the most comfortable couch in the whole of Beacon Hills, and it was the perfect armchair to procrastinate from, because half the springs were missing from it, meaning that as soon as you sat down, it was quite a task to get up from.  
Melissa’s phone buzzed from the coffee table, and she made no attempts to get it.  
“Scott,” she said instead. “Chuck me my phone,” She caught the phone and checked called ID. Laura. Melissa frowned before hitting answer.  
“Hon, you okay?” she asked, concerned. Scott flicked his head up at the sound of his mother’s voice.  
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” Laura’s voice with crackly. She sounded like she was outside, in the middle of a storm.  
“You’re not,” Melissa said. She secretly considered Laura a kind of daughter/ sister/ workmate hybrid. She would do anything to help that girl.  
“This is going to sound completely stalkerish, but I’m outside your house.”  
Melissa began to move through the house. She pulled open the door, and sure enough there was Laura, dripping wet, Derek standing a couple of paces behind her, also soaked through.  
Melissa pressed end call on her phone. “Come on in,” she said, gesturing them inside. To Laura, she said, “I’d give you a hug, but I don’t think it’d make you any drier.”  
Laura smiled, then opened her mouth to speak.  
“No,” Melissa stopped her. “Get warm first, then you can discuss whatever it is. Scott,” she broke off and hollered to her son. “SCOTT,”  
Scott ran into the hallway. “Hi,” he said after a pause looking from Laura to Derek, who were flooding the hallway. Laura smiled and Derek just gave a morose sort of look. “I’ll go get the towels,” Scott said decisively, and his mother gave him a fond look before he dashed off.  
Melissa led Laura and Derek to the kitchen where they shed their shoes, coats and hats, and Scott handed them towels.  
Melissa looked at Scott and jerked her head in the direction of the living room.  
“Right,” said Scott, cottoning on. “The movie.” He turned to Laura. “I’m watching a disaster movie; I think it’s probably started, so uh, I’d better go watch it.”  
Scott disappeared into the living room, and closed the door.  
“He’s a good kid,” Laura noted.  
“He is,” Melissa acknowledged. “Sit, both of you.”  
Melissa sat at one side of the table, Laura and Derek on the other side. Laura and Derek simultaneously had a flashback to sitting in the office opposite McCall. They both glanced at each other.  
“Okay,” Melissa said. “You two want anything to drink?”  
“No, its fine Melissa, we’re taking up enough of your time as it is,” Laura said, feeling bad. She had ordered Derek over here in a spate of anger, and being battered by the rain had cooled her off considerably to the point where she realised turning up to someone’s house uninvited in the evening was not a balanced, rational idea.  
Melissa looked steadily at her. She didn’t look at Derek, properly not yet, because the boy was barely looking up from his hands. She knew Laura was here because of Derek, and Melissa was going to help them both.  
“Derek’s upset and worried about something and he won’t talk to me, so I thought he might talk to you.” Laura blurted eventually.  
Derek scowled.  
“Okay,” Melissa said slowly, thinking over the best course of action. “Why don’t you go and watch that movie with Scott for a while, and Derek and I will stay here.” She raised her eyes questionably at Laura, who nodded, squeezed Derek’s shoulder, and then left.  
Melissa began to talk about the weather. Then she talked about the garden, and how she just couldn’t get rid of the weeds.  
“Are you a therapist?” Derek asked, his voice wary. “No,” Melissa said. “I’m a nurse. In the ER, mainly.”  
This seemed to relax Derek somewhat; he looked hard at Melissa. Seeing if he could trust her, Melissa realised.  
“I don’t want to go,” Derek said.  
“On the tour,” Melissa clarified. Derek nodded. “I didn’t originally, then I realised I had to, I needed to do it,”  
“So what’s changed?”  
Derek picked at his nails. “I just… I just I can’t. I can’t leave.”  
“Can’t leave Laura,” Melissa finished, her voice a whisper. “Derek-“  
Derek cut her off. “I know it’s stupid. I’m an adult, she’s got her whole life planned out. I should… I shouldn’t… I just don’t know.”  
“I can’t leave her. I feel sick everytime I think about going on that stupid tour, and at first I thought it was just nerves or whatever, but it’s not it’s because I’m scared that if I go…”  
I’ll never see her again.  
Melissa frowned a little, thinking hard. An idea had begun to form in her head, and she needed a bit more time to think it through.  
“Thank you, Derek,” Melissa said, smiling at him. Derek nodded, looking confused, like he didn’t understand why she was thanking him.  
“Why don’t you go wait in the living room with Scott and your sister while I sort some things out.”

Scott and Laura had sat in companiable silence for the first while. Laura hadn’t wanted to disrupt Scott’s TV watching, and Scott didn’t really mind not talking sometimes, as long as the silence was a comfortable one.  
He had only felt compelled to speak when a part of the movie involve all the characters removing their clothes in order to create a kind of ladder that they tried to rescue themselves with. “So, uh,” Scott looked away from the TV, “You like disaster movies?”  
Laura smiled to herself and cleared her throat. “I think I prefer comedies. Not that,” she jerked her head towards the screen, “This particular disaster movie isn’t pretty comical.”  
“Yeah?” Scott turned down the volume on the TV. “Have you seen that movie with the guy, and he has this dream about-“  
Scott stopped when Derek walked in. He didn’t mean to stop, it was just a reflex. This dude had saved his life. Apparently. According to Stiles. Who Scott didn’t always consider a reliable source.  
Laura stood up. “She said for me to wait in here with you,” Derek said. Laura sat back down again, but Derek just hovered.  
“I’m gonna go start walking back now,” he said, his voice low. Scott knew he was only talking to Laura but he couldn’t help jumping in with a suggestion of his own. “No, are you crazy?! It’s still raining out there. My mom can leave you back!”  
Derek ignored him. “I’ll see you later.”  
They heard the door bang shut.  
“Uh,” Scott said, still not sure what had just happened. “Was that me? Was that my fault?”  
Laura turned her attention back to the TV. “No,” she said, curling her legs up under her. “That’s Derek.”

 

 

 

                                                                                                                    *

 

Sheriff Stilinski grabbed another curly fry and tossed it into his mouth. Opposite him, Stiles glared, but the Sheriff didn’t notice. Such was the power of the curly fry. “So, run me through this plan again?”

In a swift movement, Stiles slid the plate containing the offending curly fries to his side of the table and took a handful. More for him meant less for his father. It was a sacrifice he would have to make.

“Scott and I are helping out on McCall’s surf tour.”

“Help out as what exactly?”

Stiles wasn’t exactly sure. Scott had pitched it to him as an all expenses paid holiday in which they had to do a couple of tours to help out (but it’s totally going to be worth it, man.)

“Think of it… like we’ll be runners on a film set. In this case a surfing movie.” Stiles told him, because, privately it was what he thought it was going to be like. He pictured him and Scott running around the place to find the perfect cup of coffee for Scott’s father, or scouting out a big enough container to hold all of Derek’s excess angst.

“And you think that sounds fun?” The sheriff sounded as dubious as Stiles felt, yet Stiles still felt the need to defend his not-a- holiday- holiday.

“I’ll get to meet a ton of new people,” he shrugged, and of course his father used this very innocent comment as a leaf from which a form of interrogation stemmed from.

“New people? What new people?”

“I don’t know, Dad, that’s why I called them new people. Defined as people who I do not yet know.”

His father quelled him with a look. “Humor me, son.”

Stiles sighed dramatically. “Scott’s going. You know Scott? About this high, puppy dog eye’s, has an uneven jaw… Oh, you’re familiar with Scott? Well, his mom’s going too, for the first two weeks, but not to help or anything, she’s managed to wing a free holiday, she’d stay for longer but she can only get two weeks off from the hospital. Plus, you know, I think she wants to keep and eye on Scott, make sure everything’s okay with him and his Dad.”

Stiles cleared his throat. “Then there’s Derek Hale, who I believe you also know, better than me actually, so I’d  class Derek as a new person. And his sister Lauren-”

“Laura.”

“See I told you knew them better than I did! She’s going for the first month.”  
His father held up his hand. “The first month?”

“Yeah, it lasts three months in total. I told you that!”

“You did not.”  
”Well if I didn’t, it’s because it’s not relevant as we’ll only be away for the first month.”

“And Allison’s going, and uh, Lydia… She’s reporting as part of SportLine TV.”

“Lydia,” his father repeated. “Lydia Martin?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Jackson going?” Stiles looked at his father through narrowed eyes. Surely it wasn’t normal for father’s to be so up to date in the who’s who of their son’s life?

“He quit. After the whole Derek fiasco.”  
”So, to summarize,” his father said, after a pause. “As well as meeting a lot of new people, you’ll be with a lot of old people as well.”

“We’re only teenagers,” said Stiles, deliberately misunderstanding his father’s point.

“Pass me the curly fries, Stiles,” said his father. Stiles looked down at the empty plate.

“They’re all gone,” he said.

 Hah.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Derek woke up at 3am, feeling like he was about to throw up. Which he did. Repeatedly. Afterwards, he didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. He had an alarm set for four. At four thirty, he and Laura would walk to the train station, get a train to the airport and meet the others at the airport.

“That’s a novel way to get someone up,” Laura said once he had vacated the bathroom.  
“You sleep through all of your alarms,” Derek retorted, and ran his fingers through his hair.  
“Think you can stomach some breakfast? Or too soon?”  
Derek made a face.

 

Allison had a farewell breakfast with her parents at a quarter to five in the morning. Her father had made a proper cooked breakfast, but Allison felt nauseous at the thought of food that early in the morning, and just nibbled at a small bowl of cereal instead.  
“Remember,” her father was saying. “Any problems, anywhere, you phone us, okay? And check in with us at least once a day so that we know that you’re safe.”  
“Dad,” Allison set her spoon down. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”  
Her father looked at her fondly, and her mother smiled at her. “I’ve packed you some killer out of water outfits. Outfits that say I’m a far better surfer than you but too classy to say it.”  
“You can wear them to all the fancy schmancy parties you’ll go to,” her father added.  
“But,” the said, in the same warning tone of voice, “Absolutely no drinking!”

 

Scott yawned as his Mom pulled up outside Stile’s house. Stiles was already sitting outside, perched on top of his suitcase playing on his phone, his fingers splaying like crazy as he punched the screen.  
“Hey buddy,” Stile’s said brightly as he sung open the boot and loaded his luggage, “Hi Scott.”  
Mrs McCall laughed and Scott rolled his eyes, and yawned again. “How are you so cheerful?” he asked. Stiles strapped himself in and Melissa drove in the direction of the airport.  
“Coffee. Copious amounts of coffee.”  
“You’ll slump later,” Scott warned, and his friend shrugged. “I’ll sleep on the plane.”  
“You excited Stiles?” Melissa asked from the front seat.  
“More so than I thought,” Stiles said, and looked at Scott. “You excited?”  
Scott felt a huge grin break across his face. Five minutes ago he had been pretty much asleep. Now, with his best friend beside him, their luggage in the boot, and the car en route to the airport and to the biggest adventure of his life, he felt a surge of excitement stream through his body.  
“Yeah,” Scott nodded. “Yeah, I really am!”

 

Lydia was taken to the airport in a van with a small entourage- her TV station manager, a sound guy called Brutus who didn’t really say much, which was ironic considering he was in charge of sound, and the new, fill in camera operator who had replaced the old camera guy who had called in sick. SportLine TV had kept the same core crew since Lydia had been a reporter there, so for this new kid to show up, just as Jackson left, made it feel like Jackson was the one being replaced, not the previous camera operator who had been called… Matt? Matt Something.  
Lydia pursed her lips. Jackson. The good thing about the new guy was that he no way reminded her of Jackson. The new guy was tall and lanky, with none of the confidence that Jackson had- rather he seemed to automatically hunch over when someone talked to him. He was pale, and not very talkative, but Lydia figured it would be good to buddy up with him for the trip. After all, he was in charge of framing her… making her look good. On a less shallow level, she kinda just wanted to get along well with the person she’d be spending a lot of time with. Her charms hadn’t worked with Brutus, and she didn’t want her charms to work with her manager, who, let’s face it, is a bit of a sleaze ball, but maybe…

“So, Isaac… It’s Isaac isn’t it?” Isaac, who was sitting opposite her in the van, started.  
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes darting anxiously around the van.  
“How’d you land this gig then? It’s one of the biggest features the company has run, how’d you get it?” Lydia smiled encouragingly at him, but this backfired slightly, as he dipped his head and wouldn’t look at her.  
“My dad, he’s in charge of photography studies in school and Media Club, it’s his specialist subject-“  
“You go to Beacon Hill’s High?” Interesting, thought Lydia.  
“Yeah, uh, but we don’t have any classes together,” Isaac assured her, and continued. “I’ve known how to work camera’s since a really young age, and my Dad makes sure I’m up to date with all the stuff, so, uh, when the other guy got sick, my Dad suggested me, and I was lucky enough to get picked!” Isaac sped up the end of the sentence so it ran together.  
“Great!” Lydia said, sounding overly bright, which made her cringe a little. She didn’t want Isaac to think she was patronising him or anything, but sometimes being a TV reporter for all things frivolous and fancy free leaked into her everyday life and she felt she was unable to normally react to anything anymore.  
Beside Isaac, Brutus snorted. Lydia turned her attention to him. “You want to share your origins story with me, Brutus?”  
Brutus immediately reddened and had a coughing fit.  
“I’ll take that as a no then,” Lydia said sweetly, and was pleased to she the corners of Isaac’s mouth quirk up.  
“What’s your origins story?” Isaac asked.  
“Pretty basic,” Lydia said. “Manager sees hot couple walking along the beach. Manager completely interrupts hot couples date by rabbiting on about them being stars of the future. Hot couple become stars of the future.”  
“Wow,” Isaac said, “People always said you seemed really modest.”  
Lydia laughed. “And there I was thinking you’d be all shy and retiring.”

 

 

Stiles was bored. He, Scott and Scott’s mom had been in the airport a little over an hour now without a sign of a single other person relating to the trip joining them. Stiles wouldn’t have normally minded, but normally they would be in the departure lounge by now, looking around all the overpriced shops. But this was apparently not normality anymore, and they were instead sitting on three grey and not- as- comfortable as they looked chairs, waiting to check in, because for some reason that Stiles had yet to grasp, they had Laura and Derek Hale’s luggage.

Stiles hummed to himself. Scott sent dopey love messages to Allison and sighed a lot. Mrs McCall scanned the airport like she was scoping out an assassin, so Stiles stopped looking around the airport and watched her progress with the catch the spy out game instead.

Mrs McCall suddenly jumped up, so abruptly that Stiles jumped as well. Scott managed to tear his gaze away from his phone.

“Oh, look,” Scott said vaguely, “I think that must be Lydia and co.”

“No, that definitely is Lydia,” Stiles corrected, taking in his new friend, her strawberry blonde locks bouncing, flanked by a short, scowling boy, and a taller, lanky boy who…

“Hold on a second,” Stiles was appalled. “Is he actually wearing a scarf? Maybe I’m hallucinating.”

“He’s wearing a scarf, dude,” Scott confirmed, although he didn’t sound as bothered about it as Stiles was. The group were fast approaching, so Stiles made his qualms about the boys choice of accessory clear to Scott.

“It’s summer, Scott. Summer. Tis not the season for scarves, tis the season for being, being topless, for bikinis and…”

“Debauchery and sex?” Lydia finished, looking amused. Stiles flushed slightly.

Lydia made the introductions. “Guys, this is Scott and Stiles, they’re helping out on the trip, Scott, Stiles, this is Brutus,” She pointed at the Unscarfed One who blinked at them.

“Understated greeting,” Stiles remarked. “Subtle. I like it.”

“And this is Isaac.” She said, smiling at the Scarfed One.

“Hi,” Scott said.

“Yeh, hi Isaac,” Stiles said, eyeing Scarfed One’s scarf. It had a very wintry look about it, which made it all the more of an abomination.

“Nice scarf,”

Scott smacked his hand across his head. “I apologise about him,” he said.  Isaac regarded them both warily. “Okay.”

“I have to ask,” Stiles was undeterred. “Why are you wearing a scarf, bro? It’s summer. Warmth. Heat. Summer. Why?”

Isaac shrunk away from the group a little. “I like scarves,” he said, his tone defensive.

“Okay, moving on,” Lydia said, with a toss of her hair, “I’m hungry! Anyone else hungry. Yes? Okay, Stiles, you stay here with Brutus, and the rest of us will go get food.”

Stiles gawped at her. “Play nice,” she hissed, as the others moved towards where presumably there was some sweet little café he hadn’t quite noticed in his time of sitting here. Scott, he noticed, went with them without a single glance back at him. Traitor.

Mrs McCall looked up from the magazine she had pulled out after Lydia and co. had arrived. She looked amused. “I think Lydia just put you in the naughty corner,” she said, sounding like she was on the verge of laughing. Brutus snorted.

 

 

 

Derek finally arrived at the airport. Laura had fallen asleep on the train, but Derek hadn’t been able to, so had to endure an elderly woman talk to him about the best way to bake bread. It wasn’t actually that bad of a conversation or tutorial really, and Derek secretly felt a bit sad when she got off at a stop before them. At least her chatter and step by step instructions filled the void of silence in his head.

Derek spotted Scott, Stiles and Melissa McCall as soon as he entered the airport. Scott was texting, Stiles was poking an oblivious Scott and Mrs McCall had a stack of magazines on her lap.

“Do you see them anywhere?” Laura asked, standing beside him, and looking in completely the wrong direction.

“No,” said Derek. A minute later Laura spotted them and began walking over. “Come on Derek!”

Stiles practically leapt to his feet when he saw them arrive. “At last,” he declared. “We can finally go check in.”

“Oh,” said Laura, looking apologetic. “Are we late? I thought we made good time but maybe-“

“No, we were just ridiculously early. Scott here,” Melissa patted her son on the shoulder, while Scott ducked his head, looking sheepish, “Got the times a little mixed up.”

“What?!” Stiles rounded on Scott. “Why didn’t you say anything? All this time I’ve been thinking increasingly negative thoughts about the Hale family.”

“We’ll go check in,” Derek said, picking up the bags that lay at Melissa’s feet. “Thanks for bringing our stuff up.”

“Actually,” Laura said, and she glanced at Melissa, who nodded, then at Derek who immediately felt suspicious.

“You can check in with Scott and Stiles, and Melissa and I will check in after you.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Laura sighed and pulled him away from the group.

“You can’t just hang around with me, Der. This is your thing. Scott and Stiles are good guys. Make friends. Be nice. This is a real chance for you Derek. Please don’t screw it up.”

Derek felt the tips of his ears heat up. He felt like he did when he was a kid, and went through a stage of spying on Laura and her friends, and being caught and told to beat it.

“You think I’ll screw it up?” Derek asked, and Laura made a noise of frustration. “You’re a negative person, Derek. I know why you are, and I know you can’t help it but maybe this experience can help change that. But you need to give it a chance.”

Derek wanted to tell her to piss off. He was sick and tired of people telling him he was wasting his potential, telling him he needed to live life, asking him “Why don’t you smile Derek?” But maybe, just maybe there was a tiny shred of truth in what his sister had said. And even Derek Hale always sought after that grain of hope, something to look forward to.

He backed away and rejoined the group, smiling his most charming and fake smile. “Let’s go check in then.”

 

 

Stiles was sitting between Derek Hale and Scott McCall in the departure lounge. Derek Hale and Scott McCall! Okay, so the Scott part wasn’t all that noteworthy, but still.

To be honest, he wasn’t exactly sure why he was in between the two. He didn’t feel he had revealed his best self Derek just yet. Case in point Number One: When they were checking in, Stile’s suitcase may have been slightly over the weight, so Scott suggested he divide some of his stuff out into his. Stiles accepted this offer of help, but then his zip got stuck. He tried in vain for a long and tense five minutes to try and open it, but it refused to budge. In steps Derek, who managed to get the zip open instantaneously, at which point about five of Stiles boxers spilled out onto the floor.

Once they had checked in (and Scott had finished wetting himself laughing) they had made a beeline for the safety of the seats, and Stiles had begun to make small talk with Derek, which led him to Case in point Number Two: His conversation with Derek thus far had gone like so:

“Hmmm… you like surfing then, yeah Derek?”

“Uhuh,”

“Do you not worry about getting eaten by a shark?”

“No,”

“I’d be worried about being eaten by a shark,” Stiles said, at which point Scott jumped in with “Stile’s obsessively afraid of being eaten be a shark,”

“So I gathered,” Derek said.

Scott started talking to Derek about surfing and Somebody Something Or Other and this move versus that move and blah blah blah. He felt honored when they both remembered he was still there, and Derek actually asked him a question.

“What do you like to do then, if you don’t like to surf or swim?” He made it sound like he couldn’t think what else Stiles might do with his time instead.

“Tons of stuff,” Stiles said, then his mind immediately went blank. “Video games, TV, amateur detective work, I’m a good friend,”

“You should,” declared Derek, “put that on your dating profile.”

“Wahey,” Stiles crowed “Derek made a funny!”

Derek raised an eyebrow, but Stiles could see he was quite pleased all the same.

Maybe he wasn’t such a brooding reclusive guy after all, Stiles thought. He had potential.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Allison yawned and stretched out in bed. Sunlight filtered in the half opened curtains warming her skin. Beside her, Scott rolled over and slowly woke up.  
“Urrrrghhh,” he said, and Allison laughed. “So romantic,” she teased and Scott bolted off the bed.  
“Where are you going?” she called after him, nonplussed, and heard the sound of water running and Scott frantically brushing his teeth. He ran back into the room, and jumped on the bed, planting a huge kiss on Allison’s forehead, and then kissed her, slowly and gently on the lips.  
“Morning breath,” he explained when they paused for a break.  
Allison stayed in bed with Scott until half eight, at which point they both got up and dressed. They were meeting in the lobby of Maheville Hotel, where Mr McCall was staying. He had yet to make an appearance on the trip, and Allison still hadn’t met Erica and Boyd. She felt slightly nervous about the prospect, but she wasn’t going to show it.  
“First day of work,” Scott sighed, tying the laces on his trainers.  
“For you and me both,” Allison said. “Let’s go.” Lacing their fingers together, they exited the room.

 

Mr McCall stood at the front of a medium sized room, and looked at the congregation of people in front of him; The TV crew who he was working with in order to increase publicity for each of their ventures. He was still a bit disappointed that Jackson had walked because he knew the possibility of Jackson and Derek being filmed together again was bound to keep viewers hooked, but he wasn’t an unkind man. He wasn’t here to force anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do. Unless otherwise stipulated in the contract.  
Vernon Boyd sat besides Erica Reyes on the front row, and he didn’t miss the sultry looks Erica kept throwing at Vernon, who for the most part ignored them and stared straight ahead. Mr McCall wasn’t stupid. He knew they were in a pretty serious relationship, but he trusted Vernon not to flaunt it publicly. A couple of rows back sat Allison Argent, a surfer he was interested in, but not to the point of signing any contracts. Yet. Beside Allison was Scott. It was odd having his son here, and as far as he was concerned, Scott was here to help out, not to bond with him. It was going to be a very busy couple of months for McCall and he couldn’t afford to be distracted by the woes of his teenage son. Perhaps that was harsh, but that was how he did business. 

Sitting a couple of seats away from Scott sat Scott’s friend Stilts? Stellar? McCall couldn’t quite remember, but as long as he did what he was told he didn’t really care. Derek Hale was sitting beside Stiles at the end of the road. He had none of Erica’s flirty presence, or Boyd’s calm exterior or Allison’s steadiness, but he didn’t need that. Derek had it, which was why McCall had worked so hard to get him to go on this tour. And why he had agreed to let Scott and his friend to come on the tour. All of the surfers had several things that needed ironed out before coming on the tour, but he hadn’t been able to iron Derek’s out.  
One of Derek’s main reluctance on going on the trip had been that it involved a lot of travelling.  
“What, you afraid of flying?” McCall had asked him, ready to launch in with a story about a friend of a friend who was terrified flying but miraculously overcome the fear with their first fly.  
“No,” said Derek.  
“You don’t want to see the world? That’s new,” McCall had snorted.  
“It’s not that,” Derek said, and McCall sighed. Sometimes talking to Derek was like drawing blood from a stone. You had to ask the right question to get him to give you the right answer.  
“What is it then?”  
Derek had leaned slightly forward. “I don’t travel in cars,” he said.  
“You don’t- what you mean you don’t have a license?”  
“No, I mean I don’t travel in cars.”  
“Never? I mean it we’re gonna be renting a van when we get to places, save us time and money…”  
“When I say I don’t travel in cars,” Derek said, in a slightly menacing way. “What I meant is I won’t.”  
McCall sat back and whistled through his teeth. “Let me think this over,” he said. 

In truth, McCall had kind of forgotten about it until he got an unexpected phone call from Melissa, who seemed intent on getting a free holiday from him. He half listened for ten minutes, an idea forming in his head. He protested a bit because he knew that’s what he was expected to do, being Worst Husband/ Father of the year. But really, it couldn’t have worked out more conveniently. Scott and co. could arrange Derek’s non car routes and go with him. One problem ticked off, sorted, done.

Stiles picked at his fingernails, watching Scott’s asshole father pace around at the front. He hadn’t even started speaking yet, just kept scanning the rows. He barely glanced at Stiles, which was good, otherwise Stiles would’ve glared back. He was looking at Derek now, but Derek didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy staring into space. 

Stiles and Scott had ended up having to bunk in with Derek for their first night. Scott’s mom had booked her own room at another hotel, and Scott and Stiles had assumed they had a room booked in somewhere by McCall, but the blank looks and regretful look from the receptionist had suggested this was not the case.  
They had arrived at Derek’s allocated hotel mid afternoon, having separated off from the group earlier to catch a train, then two buses. When they arrived, the hotel was pretty empty, and Scott and Stiles stood off to the side as Derek checked in.  
“Uh, I’ll call Allison,” Scott said, producing his phone from his pocket. He called. She did not answer.  
“Seriously dude? You’ve been texting and ringing her non-stop since this trip and now is the time she decides not to pick up?”  
“Maybe she can’t get a signal,” Scott said and held the phone up higher, because of course that was going to help.  
Stiles yawned a huge yawned. “I’m so tireeeeeeeeeeeeeed,” he tried to say, but this was partially eaten by the yawn.  
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait. There are some chairs over there, and-“  
“You can stay in my room.”  
Stiles jumped. Derek had checked in and snuck over beside them.  
“We can… really?” Stiles was surprised. Yes, they had spent all day travelling with Derek but Derek had still kept himself emotionally distant from him and Scott, and seemed kind of weary of them every time they spoke to him, so Stiles thought Derek must have been looking forward to getting into his hotel room and slamming the door shut.  
Derek shrugged. “They said it’s a twin room, and they can bring a mattress up.”  
Stiles looked at Scott. “Yeah buddy?”  
“Yeah buddy!”  
Predictably, after they had ordered room service and got showered and stuff, Scott went off to have a love fest with Allison, leaving Derek and Stiles alone.  
Normally when Stiles was around someone he didn’t know very well, he would ramble on and on, trying to fill all the silences, but with Derek he didn’t bother. Derek wouldn’t pretend to be interested in what he had to stay and would probably just tell him to shut up. Or throw him out of the room.  
Stiles watched TV and Derek read, and then Stiles yawned seven times in a row and decided it was high time to fall asleep. Scott had texted him to tell him to take the bed as he was “staying the night at Allison’s” so Stiles got ready for bed and turned out the little lamp above his bed. It dimmed the room a little, but not much. Stiles stared at the ceiling for a while. Derek looked engrossed in the book he was reading, and hadn’t even noticed that Stiles had turned the TV off. When he did, he gave a little start and slammed the book shut.  
“Sorry, I’ll turn this light off now,” Derek said, and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.  
“No, really it’s fine,” Stiles said, “Finish reading your book or whatever.” Stiles knew he wouldn’t get to sleep unless the room was completely dark, but he didn’t want the dude to change his sleeping routine because of this.  
“No, it’s fine,” Derek said, and returned into the room in a black tank top and boxers. “I need to catch some sleep as well.” He flicked off the light switch.  
Stiles waited a couple of seconds before venturing with a “Goodnight,”  
“Night,” Derek said, and Stiles smiled to himself before burrowing under the covers and falling fast asleep.  
Derek may have said he was tired, but Stiles woke up several times in the night- due to him being in an unfamiliar place- and Derek was wide awake each time, his arms stretched behind his head.  
When Stiles alarm had gone off in the morning, followed by a text from Scott letting him know about the meeting, Stiles had felt bad about waking Derek up. He had finally fallen asleep, his head buried in the pillow.  
“Derek,” Stiles said tentively, moving over to his bed. “Derek?”  
Derek immediately opened his eyes and jumped out of bed, switching from fast asleep to wide awake in one fell swoop. 

At the front of the room, McCall finally opened his mouth and began speaking. “I know most of you here already know each other. And I want to stress the importance of that. Everyone at in this room contributes to and makes up Navigate.”  
Stiles looked quizzically at Derek who murmured “the name of the team,” Ah, yes Stiles thought. The team.  
“We are a team. So today is going to be about building that team, about making it stronger. We’ll spend an hour or so talking in here so you all get a chance to meet and get to know each other.” Stiles craned his neck around to room to get a good idea of all the people he’d get a chance to meet. There was Erica and Boyd at the front row, who he knew the names of because Scott wouldn’t shut up about them and even googled them for Stiles benefit. Sitting two rows behind him were a group of four twelve year old, who all gave him to same hostile stare as he waved at them.  
“Okay, no then,” Stiles said, hastily turning around.  
McCall was still talking.  
“Then in the afternoon, I want all you surfers to have a mini competition against each other, to cement your status as Team Navigate.”  
Beside him, Derek rolled his eyes.

Derek sat at the table, examining his hands, deliberately ignoring the setup that McCall had created around him. When McCall had announced that he wanted everyone to “get to know each other,” Derek had assumed that he meant they would stand around for a while and everyone would make awkward small talk. But no, McCall meant that he wanted to turn the space into a speed dating event. He got all the males to sit down, because the girls would be doing the “dating.” It was so unbelievably stupid, and not at all well thought through, because Boyd wasn't a girl so wouldn't have a chance to “date” Derek, and they were on the same team so how would they get a chance to get to know each other? And this whole situation was making Derek think sentences he never thought he would ever have to think.

McCall dinged a bell, and his first date sat down, smelling of expensive perfume and questions.  
“Derek Hale,”  
Derek raised his eyes to hers. “Lydia Martin,”  
“We haven’t had the pleasure,” Lydia said, extending her hand in a businesslike fashion. Derek stared at it, then took it cautiously and shook it.   
He waited for Lydia to speak, but she only continued to stare at him.  
“Could you stop?” he asked once it had gone past the point of uncomfortable.  
Lydia blinked and seemed to snap out of her trance. “I… uh, sorry. It’s just your quite the mystery. And it’s my job to unravel the mystery.”  
“Maybe,” said Derek, “Some things are better left mysterious.”  
Lydia considered this. “You could be right,” she said, pursing her lips in thought. “You know I have to do all your pre/ post competition interviews, right? New game plan, you talk very little. One word answers. Audiences love an enigma.”  
“That was my original game plan,” Derek said, but he doubted if she even heard him.   
The bell rang, signalling end of time.   
“So nice to chat,” Lydia said, and swept away. Derek stared at her empty seat, feeling wrong footed. Whatever he had thought Lydia Martin to be, it hadn’t been that. 

Erica Reyes draped her body over the chair in such a deliberately sexy manner that Derek felt sure she had been practising for days. She looked at Derek once she had been seated, narrowing her eyes at him for some kind of reaction. Derek looked down at his hands.   
“You’re a handsome one,” Erica said, her voice breathy. She licked her lips. “Not a match for Boyd, though. He’s gonna whip your ass this afternoon,”  
At this, Derek properly smiled. “Is that so,” he said, rather than asked.   
“Oh yes,” Erica leant forward. “He’s very good at what he does. As am I,”  
“I guess we’ll find out,” Derek said, beginning to look forward to the upcoming competition.

Derek’s third “date” was a young girl with black dreadlocks and pouting lips.  
“Kayla,” she said, pointing to herself.  
“Derek,” said Derek, nodding at her.   
“I know who you are.” Kayla snapped her fingers at him. “Derek Hale, the big bad wolf of Navigate.”  
“That’s a new one,” Derek said, unfazed. Kayla bared her teeth at him. “I’ve been told I’m a very original girl.”   
Derek nodded. “Noted.”  
Kayla bared her teeth at him again. 

 

Derek wasn't surprised when Allison sat down next, but he was also unprepared. Still, she seemed nervous too, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, like she used to do when she was younger.  
Derek felt the back of his throat constrict.  
“He’s watching you,” Allison said, her voice calm and quiet. Derek looked at her.  
“McCall,” Allison said, jerking her chin in the direction of him. “He wants to see if you’re going to freak out or not,”  
“Why would I fre-“ Derek began to say, but Allison cut him off. “Don’t give him the satisfaction,” she said, and held his gaze.  
“You know,” she said, fiddling with a necklace at her throat. “I think now is the time to let the past be the past. We don’t have to be friends or anything, but we don’t have to hate each other either, right?”  
Derek opened and closed his mouth. “I-“ He tried again. “Right.”  
Allison smiled kindly at him. “I won’t bring up her if you don’t want, but if you do ever find yourself wanting to talk about her…” she trailed off, and then the bell dinged.  
“Thanks,” Derek said in a small voice as she left the table. But I won’t ever he added silently. 

Somehow Derek ends up feeling ridiculously relieved when Stiles takes his place opposite him.  
“I’m glad to see you’re not afraid to get in touch with your feminine side,” Derek smirked and Stiles pouted at him. “You are the third person to point that out. Zero points for creativity. There are more boys than girls and McCall called- haha “McCall called”- me Stilton and told me to be a girl for the next half hour, so here I am.”  
“A beautiful story,” Derek commended, and Stiles wrinkled his nose at him.   
“You’re actually incredibly talkative today,” Stiles said, scanning the room. “More so than Boyd, anyway. That dude has the monopoly on silence.”  
“Hmmm,” Derek said, and that was the end of that.


	10. Chapter 10

Lydia sat beside Stiles on the sand bank, watching the surfers cluster around McCall. Isaac was setting up the camera and tripod at the waters edge and Brutus was fiddling with sound equipment. Lydia wasn’t actually doing any reporting for this segment; Isaac was filming it for “just in case”. Scott rushed over and plonked himself down beside Stiles. “Girl’s first, then boys,” he said breathlessly and Stiles gave him double thumbs up to convey his immense excitement.  
“How many girls’ are there anyway?” Stiles asked, looking out at the water.  
Scott gave him a look of surprise. “You met them all this morning!”  
Stiles gave Scott a “duh!” look and Lydia decided to intervene. “Stile’s was busy being a girl this morning, remember?” Scott nodded and Lydia turned to Stiles. “There’s Allison, Erica and a girl named Kayla.”  
Scott frowned. “But you were being a girl this morning as well,” he protested. “How do you know?”  
“Because I was being a girl this morning,” Lydia said vaguely, knowing it would frustrate him. Scott just looked at her. “And as a girl I was able to remember people’s faces and their names and retain them for a longer period than up until lunch time.”  
“Oh,” Scott said, his face clearing. “Cool.”  
Stiles snickered. “Actually I think I remember seeing Kayla. She like, growled at me. And bared her teeth. She was kind of scary actually. Do you think she’ll be any good?”  
Lydia flicked a grain of sand off her top. “Allison will be better,” she said.

 

While McCall was making yet another speech about teams and surfing, Allison was being stroked on the arm by Erica. It was an uncomfortable kind of stroking because for one, she had only met Erica that morning, and for two, Erica was looking at her with a grin on her face and running her tongue over her lips.  
“Okay, would you quit that?” Allison snapped, and Erica released her, smiling a huge smile like Allison had just given her the best present ever.  
Allison flicked a glance at Boyd who was ignoring Erica, but he gave Allison a nod when he noticed her watching him, and Allison couldn’t help but feel reassured by it.  
Still, she felt that Boyd should physically rein his girlfriend in when Erica sauntered around the group and started to stroke Derek’s arm. Derek’s reaction was instantaneous. He jumped, turned to Erica, gave her a murderous look until she let go, then looked forward again, a steely look on his face.  
Boyd seemed to smile to himself as Erica stalked back round to plant herself beside him again. Allison forced herself to get her mind off the obviously complex relationship Boyd and Erica had, and onto the comp. 

 

“Psssh,” Lydia said, leaning forward as Allison nearly fell off her board. She made up for it a couple of moments later by a flawless manoeuvre.  
“Sheesh,” Stiles wiped the sweat off his brow. “I didn’t realise spectating would be this stressful.”  
“Erica will place first. Allison second and Kayla third,” Scott predicted, and Stiles turned on his friend.  
“Uh, aren’t you meant to root for Allison?” he asked. Scott shrugged. “Sure, I want her to do the best, but at this particular time Erica is winning, and I’m okay with that.”  
“So fickle,” Stiles lamented, and Lydia swore as the comp ended. “Totally thought Allison was going to win,” she said, sounding pissed off.  
Scott smiled at her. “Allison is going to win,” he said, sounding completely unbothered. “Just not today.”

“Ugh,” Allison flopped down beside her friends, a hoodie pulled over her surf wear. “I can’t believe I lost to Erica.”  
“It’s okay,” said Scott, squeezing her hand.  
“No, it’s not,” Allison said, looking annoyed. “I’m only on probation. If I don’t win, I’m out. And I didn’t win.”  
”You’ll win the next one,”  
“But what if I don’t?” Allison asked, and she looked hard at Scott, searching for the answers in his eyes.  
“You will.” Scott assured her, and then he managed to make her heart melt that little bit more. “And even if you don’t, it doesn’t matter. Even if you don’t get on the team, it doesn’t matter. You’ll still be kick ass Allison Argent, and you’ll still be able to surf. It doesn’t matter if you don’t do a perfect job all the time. It doesn’t make you any less incredible.”  
Allison smiled at him. “Thank you,” she mouthed and Stiles cleared his throat loudly.  
“Nice pep talk there, Scott,” he observed. “Very eloquently put. But where’s my pep talks, Scotty? Huh? Huh?”  
Scott shrugged easily, and stretched out. “If you were my girlfriend, and we got to make out all the time, we would pep talk all the time, baby.  
Stiles mimed throwing a punch at Scott.

So who do we cheer for?” Lydia asked, picking up a grape with her forefinger and thumb, examining it and popping it into her mouth.  
The boy’s trial was about to begin, and she felt more relaxed about it because she was emotionally attached to anyone like with Allison. Obviously, as summer wore on, she would get to know the team better, through her interviews. It was yet to be decided if any of them would wind up becoming her friends. Not just anybody could be Lydia Martin’s friend, and while the five boys had the appearance factor ticked off, she needed more time to mull over their potential. And thus began Test Number 1.  
“Hmmm…” Stiles mused, glancing over at Scott for confirmation. “It’s between Boyd and Derek. I’m going to vote Boyd.”  
“But Derek’s your roommate!” Scott exclaimed like Stiles was committing a huge betrayal. “Yes. Well,” Stiles shrugged.” I don’t want to seem bias.”  
“I thought you said you were scared of Boyd,” Allison said, a mischevious smile on her face.  
“Yes,” Lydia turned to Stiles. “I distinctly remember you saying he said three words to you, and apart from that stared at you with “unwavering eyes.”  
“That’s true,” Stiles said. “But I didn’t say what words he said to me, did I? Aha! No, I did not.”  
“What did he say, Sex me up? Love me tender? Stiles For Ever?”  
Scott guffawed his approval.  
Stiles gave Lydia a fake smile, and waited for the laughter to die down. “Actually, he complimented me. On my style.”  
Everyone gave him a blank look.  
“Is there a punch line we’re missing here?” Scott asked.  
“I’m being serious here, guys.” Stiles moaned.  
“What did he say exactly?” Allison looked amused.  
“I said “Do you like my shirt?” And he said “Mmnyeh. Then I said “I have great hair, right,” and he kind of bobbed his head, and we ended our bonding by me saying, “Love you dude,” and him agreeing about our love.”  
Once Lydia finished laughing, she patted Stiles on the shoulder. “Oh Stiles,” she said. “Only you.”

 

Derek wound up winning, and Boyd and Derek surprised the group by coming over to them.  
“Hi guys,” Scott said, looking up at them. Stiles knew for a fact Scott was jealous as hell of them for doing what he dreamt of doing, but something like that wasn’t going to stop Scott from trying to be their buddy. It was one of his more endearing qualities.  
“There’s a party on at some surf groupies house at eight tonight if you guys wanna go?” The words rumbled out of Boyd’s mouth, and the expression on his face suggested he didn’t care very much either way if they decided to come or not. Beside him, Derek was scratching the nape of his neck, and snatching glances at the ocean behind him.  
“You know people from here?” Allison asked, and Boyd looked at her and said a single word. “Erica.” Stiles nodded. That made sense.  
“You inviting Kayla? Or Morgan and Thomas?” Lydia wanted to know.  
Boyd shook his head. “I won’t; but Erica probably will.”  
“Why don’t you want to invite them?” Stiles asked. “They’re part of the team right?”  
Lydia gave him a slightly patronizing smile. “They are fourteen years old. As in, spectacularly underage,”  
“So are we,” Stiles pointed out.  
Lydia heaved a huge sigh. “Yeah, but we’re just underage. Not spectacularly underage.”  
Derek cleared his throat. “You’ve got my room key, Stiles.”  
“Our room key,” Stiles corrected him automatically.  
Derek slowly and dramatically raised and eyebrow. Stiles slowly and dramatically got off the sand, and began walking in the direction of the hotel.  
“You don’t need to walk back with me,” Derek said. Stiles looked at him. The older boy didn’t look like he had just won anything, he looked like he had spent the last couple of days on the streets with no sleep. Yet he still looked ridiculously good looking. The unfairness of life.  
“I’ve been in the sun all afternoon, I need a rest,” Stiles shrugged.  
“You need a rest?”  
“Yes,” Stiles said, beginning to feel annoying. “I as in me as in myself as in yes, I do. And for the record, I really think you need to have a rest too. Don’t you ever sleep?”  
Derek looked stricken for a slight second but the look was gone as quickly as it appeared so Stiles wondered if he’d imagined it.  
“I get enough,” Derek said, and Stiles said nothing, just looked pointedly at the rings around his eyes.  
“Shut up, Stiles,” said Derek.

Stiles opened the door to the hotel room, and made a beeline towards the bed. Derek had a shower, and as Stiles listened to the sound of the running water, he felt his eyes get heavier and heavier.  
He jumped when Derek exited the bathroom, his hair dripping wet. He watched Derek pick up the bottle of water from the small coffee table and gulp down most of the bottle. Then he watched as Derek dropped to the floor and started doing press ups.  
“Dude,” Stiles spluttered. “I thought you said you needed to rest.”  
“Actually,” Derek said, between press ups. “You said you needed to rest.”  
“Well, I don’t see how I’m going to nap with you on the floor doing that.” He flicked a hand at Derek to indicate Derek’s body rising and dipping from the floor. Damn, those muscles.  
“Am I distracting you?”  
“Yeah,” Stiles said, distractedly. “Wait, no. Nope not at all. One hundred percent not distracted. That’s me. Yep.”  
Derek got up, looking amused.  
“It’s called exercise.”  
Stiles brain did a little flip and he felt flustered and annoyed all at once. “It’s called… well hahaha comedienne Derek Hale everyone, he of muscles not muscles nooo… I know what exercise is, Derek,” Stiles finished his voice as cool as he could make it after that train wreck of remarks.  
“Hmmm,” said Derek, sounding thoughtful. “You wouldn’t know it to look at it. I’m going for a run,” And he left the room, leaving Stiles gaping after him.  
“Yeah, well,” Stiles called after him, about seven seconds too late. “I may be lazy but at least I’m not a bitch!”

 

Stiles power napped until conveniently it was time for the party. Scott walked in the room with a huge grin on his face and opened his mouth.  
Stiles rushed towards him and physically clamped his hand over his mouth.  
“I don’t want to know Scott! I don’t want to know. Lalalalalaaaaa,”  
Scott gave him a put upon look. “You don’t even kn-“  
“Allison something sexual love Allison Allison Allison. My right or my right?”  
Scott tilted his chin toward the ground. “Am I that bad? Do I talk about her that much?”  
“Meh,” Stiles shrugged. He wasn’t mad with Scott exactly, he just had no desire to hear about all the explicit things they got up to. Scott was his brother. Basically. You didn’t want to hear about your family members having sex.  
“You ready to go then? Where’s Derek?” Scott scanned the room as if he thought Derek might me hiding under the table or beneath the covers of one of the beds.  
“He got bored of insulting me and went for a run. Personally I think he went to-“  
The door clicked open, and Stiles and Scott instinctively looked towards the door, making them look like they were up to something suspicious. Derek didn’t even comment on it, just looked at them like they were in the way (Scott was standing practically on top of Derek’s bag now that he thought about it) and walked past them to peer out of the window.  
“You were just outside!” Stiles burst out. “How can you need to look out the window when you were just outside like a second ago?”  
Derek turned slowly and blinked at Stiles. He obviously couldn’t think of anything witty to say because he just blinked at Stiles a further three times then resumed his window watching.  
“So,” said Scott, attempting to salvage the situation. “Uh, the party… It started like an hour ago, will we head out now? Allison and Lydia will meet us there. You… you coming Derek?”  
Derek did not turn around. “Maybe later,” he said, a phrase Stiles recognized from his own vocabulary for use in situation when the real answer was “Definitely never.”

 

Derek’s mobile rang shortly after Scott and Stiles left, Scott wearing far too much aftershave and Stiles enthusiastically fist bumping to the words “Party! Time! Party Time!” He glanced at the screen and answered it.  
“Laura,” he said into the phone. He didn’t much see the point of phone pleasantries, especially when talking to a sibling.  
“Derek, are you free?”  
Derek was immediately on alert. Laura’s voice sounded strained, like she was struggling to keep her feelings in check.  
“Yes,” he said, pushing down the panic that was rising in his chest.  
“I’ll be round in about fifteen minutes,” Laura said, and she hung up.  
Derek sat perched at the edge of his bed, wishing that Stiles and Scott were still here filling the room with their terrible gags and puns.  
Laura knocked softly on the door and Derek immediately crossed the room to let her in. Her face was blotchy, as though she’d been crying, and she sat down heavily on Derek’s bed. Derek stayed standing, his arms folded across his chest.  
“What’s happened?” he demanded, and Laura gave him a weak smile.  
“It’s good news really,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m reacting about it like this, I think it’s just because it was a shock…”  
“Laura,” Derek said. “What’s happened?”  
“Cora,” Laura said, her voice full of wonder. “Cora.”

 

Stiles was veering towards the drunk side of drunk when Derek slammed into the party near midnight. He seemed a lot more intense tonight somehow. In fact, people seemed to be making a path for him, because he was walking so purposely. Towards them.  
“Derek is so intense!” Stiles shouted to Scott over the music.  
“What?” Scott exclaimed and then started laughing like a hyena. “Derek’s in a tent? Haha!” He turned to Allison. “Derek’s in a tent!” Allison gave him a wide smile, and the three of them laughed uproariously, even though nothing funny had happened. It was like a case of Chinese whispers gone terribly wrong (or right?) Anyway, yes Derek was very intense or in tents, however you wanted to look at it, and here was Derek now, his face lit up from the dancing fluorescent lights.  
“Derek,” Stiles gestured towards him. “Derek, it’s a party! You’re meant to be happy!”  
When Derek looked at him, in Stiles nearly- drunk- but not- quite- there drunken state, he felt strangely very emotional. As in, he thought he might actually cry. Because when Derek looked at him, his face was so sad, his jaw tight, his eyes lost.  
“Derek,” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand. “Derek, don’t be sad!”  
Derek looked down at his hand, then back up at Stiles, then he gently released his hand from Stiles.  
Lydia came up from behind Stiles at that point, and pointed a finger at Derek. “You need a drink,” she told him, and Derek did not deny this. Drinks appeared from out of nowhere, and Lydia handed them all from Derek who chugged them down like a pro, which made Stiles suspect that Derek had done all this before.  
Lydia started dancing with Isaac and Allison, and Stiles looped his arm around Scott’s shoulder and they started dancing, and then Derek disappeared, and then pretty much the whole night disappeared as Stiles officially entered the drunk part of drunk, and the last memory he had of the night was of patting Allison on the head and asking, “Where is ERICA? And where is BOYYYYD?” to which Allison replied, “I haven’t seen them, maybe they didn’t come,” and then… And then, who knows?


	11. Chapter 11

Somewhere in the realms of consciousness, Scott’s phone buzzed. It buzzed again and again, until Scott opened a bleary eye and squinted at the screen.  
23 missed calls from McCall  
Panicked, Scott opened both eyes and answered the phone.  
“Scott, what the hell took you so long to answer,” his father hissed. Scott felt something had fallen asleep in his mouth and died.  
“Uh, sorry,” he said, then coughed. “My phone was, uh, uh… under the bed.”  
His father sighed. “The new coach wants to meet the team at the beach in front of the marquee in exactly an hour. I can’t get hold of Hale. Make sure he’s there.”  
Crap, crap, crap thought Scott stumbling over bits of furniture- or bits of people- he couldn’t tell what given that the room was pitch black- to reach the curtains. He tugged them back and groaned when the blinding sunlight hit him.  
At least he could see now. Stiles was curled up on the bed, and Derek was… Derek was lying in a heap on the floor.  
Crap! Scott made his way over to Stiles and shook him awake. “Stiles! Stiles wake up, or my Dad’s going to murder me.” Stiles lifted his head off the bed, looked at Scott and then thumped it back down.  
“Stiles!” Scott exclaimed with more urgency. “He’s going to murder BOTH OF US,”  
“Why is your Dad such a raving psychopath?” Stiles enquired, sitting up on the bed, rubbing his eyes. “Why can’t he just let me sleep?”  
“He wants Derek down by the beach front in an hours time to meet the new coach or something and Derek is on the floor passed out.” Scott gestured towards Derek.  
“Have you tried waking him up?” Stiles asked, looking at Derek.  
“No! I’m not… He might… I think-“  
“You really are pathetic sometimes, Scotty,” Stiles said good naturedly, hopping down from the bed with more energy than a hungover person should ever have. He walked right over to Derek and shouted “WAKE UP DEREK!”  
Derek did not wake up.  
Stiles shot Scott a worried look. “How much did he drink?”  
Scott shrugged. “How would I know? He can’t have had that much, he arrived way after us…” Scott looked angrily at Derek. “If he doesn’t get down to that beach our asses will be on the next plane home.”

 

Derek felt himself being slapped on the side of his face and in retaliation, he shoved the person doing the slapping off him. It must have been quite a forceful shove because when he had managed to open his eyes, Stiles was lying at the corner of the room, rubbing his elbow and glaring at him.  
“Woah, Dude you okay?” Scott’s face appeared in the centre of Derek’s vision, and Derek heard Stiles angry reply, “Think he’s feeling fine considering he nearly pushed me through the wall!”  
Derek tried to get off the floor but the room started swimming and Scott caught him by the shoulder before he tumbled down again.  
“Stiles could you get him some water?” Scott asked. “Please?”  
Derek heard Stiles mutter something under his breath, and then an impossibly cold glass of water was thrust into his hands and Scott was instructing him to drink it.  
“You feel better now?” Scott asked, once Derek had glugged all the water down.  
“Mmmnnngh,” Derek said noncommittally. He just really really wanted to go back to sleep. He closed his eyes.  
“No, no, no!” Scott yelled. Derek opened his eyes and gave Scott the most murderous look he could muster.  
“What Scott means,” Stiles mock whispered. “Is don’t fall asleep because you have to be down on the beach in under an hour to meet your new coach.”  
Derek rubbed his eyes. “My new coach,” he repeated dully.  
“Yes your new coach!” Scott shouted, clearly having not taken Derek’s look of murder seriously. “And do you know what happens if we do not deliver you down to the beach? Huh? We get sacked! We have to go home, all because you decided to get completely drunk!”  
“Deliver me?”  
Scott made a noise of frustration and Stiles stepped in front of Scott, blocking Derek’s view of him.  
“Derek,” Stiles said, and he didn’t say anything else until Derek looked up at him.  
“Look, I know you’re feeling like crap…”  
Derek snorted.  
“Okay, do you know what?” Now Stiles looked angry too. Jesus.  
“Just man the fuck up and take a cold shower and get down to the beach.”  
Derek glared at him. “Fine!”  
“Fine,” said Stiles, and Derek did not miss the look of triumph he gave Scott, who just buried his head in his hands like it was all too stressful for words. Derek didn’t get what they were so damned worried about. He was the one who had to face his new coach. As the cold water trickled down his thumping head, he looked at his hands and clenched his fists. Stupid alcohol. 

 

Lydia walked with Allison down to the beach. She felt a little headachey, but otherwise fine. Allison looked as fresh as if she’d spent the day at the spa followed by a full eight hours sleep.  
“Oh,” Lydia said, suddenly realizing something.  
“What?” Allison asked, and Lydia gestured towards a couple leaning a distance away.  
“Erica and Boyd. They weren’t at the party. But they invited everyone to the party.”  
“You mean…” Allison sounded incredulous. “They tricked us?”  
Lydia laughed. “They didn’t trick us. They just invited us to a party. A party at which copious amount of alcohol was consumed. And it might be completely innocent. They might have just decided they didn’t want to go.”  
“But you don’t think so.”  
Lydia shook her head. “Erica’s definitely got a game plan going on. And Boyd, well, I don’t know.”  
Lydia’s phone buzzed. “Stiles,” she said to Allison’s questioning look, and she answered it.  
“Do you know what marquee we’re meant to be meeting in front of? There’s like a billion marquees out here!”  
“The blue and yellow one.”  
“Yeah and there’s like nineteen of those.”  
“There’s a café called Seafront Snacks behind it.”  
“Oh great, I know exactly where it is now,” Stiles said, heavily sarcastic.  
“You a bit hungover?” Lydia asked, unable to stop herself from teasing.  
“Nah, not really,” Stiles said. “Scott’s worse, and Derek’s looking pretty terrible. He threw up twice. It was disgusting.”  
“You do realize the new coach will probably actually coach them today, right?” Lydia said.  
“Yeh, don’t know how he’ll cope with that,” Stiles said and then hung up.  
Lydia and Allison gave Erica and Boyd a wide berth as they crossed in front of the café and sat on a white bench at the side of the marquee. McCall was pacing up and down inside the marquee and several other people were sitting in a semi circle of chairs, talking intensely.  
“Scott!” Allison leapt up and gave her boyfriend a hug. Scott let go of Allison and gave Lydia a quick hug before she could protest. Lydia was not much of a hugger, but Scott clearly was so she let it go. Stiles looked hopefully at her, probably hoping for a hug too, but Lydia just smiled at him. Derek loped in behind Stiles, and Lydia reached in her bag for a bottle of water.  
“You look seriously dehydrated,” she said, handing the bottle to Derek who just sighed in response and sipped at the water. McCall spotted them and hurried out to them.  
“Argent, Hale,” he greeted them, because obviously Allison and Derek were the only ones worth mentioning, it wasn’t like he had a son or anything standing there.  
“Lydia, Scott, Stiles,” Lydia said with a thousand watt smile. McCall briefly acknowledged her. “Of course,” he said with a tight smile and then turned his attention back to his surfers.  
“The coach will be here in about twenty minutes. I want you both out in the water showing what you’ve got by the time she arrives. Hale, you look an absolute mess. Show up looking like this ever again and you’re off the team. That goes for all of you.” He fixed them all with a steely look and walked away, looking anxiously at his watch.  
“Mr McCall, ladies and gentlemen,” Stiles said.

Stiles sits on the sand with Lydia and Scott.  
“Where’s McScarfy?” he asked, for he had not seen Isaac at the party.  
Lydia pursed her lips slightly. “I’m not sure. I think he’s been exploring the town.”  
“Oh,” Stiles said, and he was going to say more when Melissa McCall and Laura Hale came up behind them.  
“Mom, hey,” Scott got up and hugged his mother.  
“Hi Mrs McCall, Laura,” Stiles waved, then remembered he had never actually met Laura before and therefore sounded like a bit of a well informed creep.  
“Laura, this is Stiles Stilinski and Lydia Martin,” Melissa said pointing to each of them in turn.  
“Hi,” Lydia said, smiling.  
“Hi,” Laura said, and she plonked herself down beside Stiles and Lydia, while Melissa sat beside Scott.  
“How’s your father being?” Melissa asked, and while Stiles knew the question was posed to Scott he couldn’t resist quipping “Distinctly unfatherly.”  
Scott gave him a faint grin. “Yeh, that’s about right.”  
Melissa looked disappointed but unsurprised. “He hasn’t been working you two too hard, has he?”  
Scott pulled a face. “Nah, not really. Basically we just have to make sure Derek gets to places on time and stuff seeing as he won’t use cars and make sure he doesn’t get passed out drunk…” Scott trailed off, seeming to realize that Laura was sitting right there.  
“Was he drunk last night?” Laura asked, looking toward her brother, who was out in the ocean along with Allison, Erica, Boyd and the other surfers that made up Team Navigate.  
“Uh… uh a bit?”  
“We’re you drunk last night?” Melissa asked Scott, a stern look on her face.  
“Uh, no?” Scott cringed and Melissa narrowed her eyes. “You know it’s not only your father who can pull this whole trip right? I can too.”  
“I know,” Scott said, but Melissa still looked put out. “Wanna grab a drink… water,” he added hurriedly, “and you can tell me what you’ve been up to since we’ve been here,”  
Melissa nodded and got up with Scott, saying goodbye to her non family members.  
Which left Stiles, Lydia and Laura Hale.  
There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence after the McCall’s left, mainly because Laura was looking distinctly unhappy.   
“It’s probably my fault,” she said, and both Stiles and Lydia shifted on the sand, Lydia looking at Laura with an appraising look.  
“Why?” she asked, her voice soft, not inquisitive like the Reporter Lydia that he knew.  
Laura drew in a breath, shook her head slightly then exhaled all of her words in a rush of breath. “I got word that our younger sister Cora wanted to make contact with us... We haven’t seen her since the fire. I was going to wait until after the trip to tell him, but then I figured he deserved to know…” Laura trailed off. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “It was meant to be good news, but somehow it’s just turned into a huge mess.”

 

Derek treaded water in the ocean. He knew that McCall expected him to surf, but even just thinking about standing on the board made him feel dizzy, so he’d wait it out until the new coach got here. Erica leaned on her board beside him, and smiled at him slow and lazy like a cat.  
“What’s wrong Der Bear?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. “You feeling a ickle bit sick?”  
In normal circumstances Derek would have just snarled at her but a sudden feeling of nausea pummeled him on top of his existing feeling of sickness and he closed his eyes and focused on breathing instead.  
When he opened his eyes again, Erica was gone and Boyd was there instead. Derek shook his head slightly, sure that Boyd was going to do a continuation of Erica’s mocking.   
“You might collapse,”  
Derek looked at him sharply, but Boyd wasn’t smiling or looking like he thought the idea particularly amusing; he looked solemn and almost like he was concerned about Derek.   
“I won’t,” Derek said, promising himself.  
“We all have our problems,” Boyd said looking out onto the beach.  
“Yes,” Derek said, “I would say Erica is particularly problematic.”  
Boyd looked at Derek and smiled. “Erica’s just trying to work you out. She doesn’t understand quiet people. She used to not understand me.”  
“Fascinating,” Derek murmured, scanning the beach for this goddamned new coach so this day would be over sooner.  
“You keep your cards close to your chest,” Boyd continued, an something in the tone of his voice made it clear that Derek was meant to only listen, not retort.  
“I get that. You’ve got to work out who you can trust. Like I know that you trust your sister. Because she’s family.”  
Derek snapped his head up at this, and Boyd just looked at him, his expression neutral.  
Boyd began to paddle away.   
“Remember Derek,” he said, his voice being lifted by the wind. “Family doesn’t always have to be blood.”

 

Lydia found Laura Hale all kinds of interesting. First was her backstory, obviously, followed by her relationship with her brother, coupled by the way she seemed to be able to interact on a normal social level that her brother seemed to be unwilling to comply to. It was all very interesting on the basis of psychological analysis and sibling comparison, but unfortunately all that Laura Hale had to say was cut off abruptly by the arrival of the new coach, who, Lydia was very pleased to see, was a woman.   
The woman walked across towards to beach followed by McCall who was striding alongside her. They both looked like something from a James Bond movie.   
“Is that…” Stiles trailed off, watching the woman’s progress.  
“The new coach,” Lydia finished crisply. “Yes. I’m going to go introduce myself.”  
She stood up from the sand, brushed down her dress and walked swiftly over to the woman, who was staring at the surfers in the sea with a ferocious intensity.   
The woman was of Japanese descent, her hair lying perfectly straight on her shoulders despite the wind. She raised a questioning eyebrow at Lydia’s arrival, and addressed McCall.  
“Is this one of your surfers, Rafael?” she asked him, and McCall sent Lydia an agonised look. Lydia mimicked the expression of the new coach and McCall quickly quelled his own expression.  
“No, no… This is Lydia Martin; she’s a reporter with Sports Line TV, who are working with us to promote the team and provide exposure of the tour,” McCall said smoothly.  
The woman shook Lydia’s hand. “Noshiko Yukimura, the coach of Navigate,”  
McCall began signalling for the surfers in the water to come to the shore. Allison was the first one out of the water and she approached them with a tentative smile.  
“This is Allison Argent,” McCall said. “Hi,” Allison smiled, and Yukimura introduced herself. Kayla and the three younger boys appeared, followed by Erica, who looked annoyed to discover the new coach was a woman.  
Boyd and Derek were last to join them, Boyd tailing behind Derek, who looked sweaty and exhausted, but, Lydia had to concede, the boy still looked damned fine.   
Yukimura didn’t miss Derek’s less than healthy appearance, but before she could say anything about it, Boyd’s deep voice rumbled out.  
“He looks really peaky. We ate at that seafood restaurant two blocks away last night… I was up half the night vomiting, I think what ever I had is beginning to hit him to.” Boyd looked just the right amount of concerned to make his story seem legit, and Yukimura surveyed the group looking thoughtful, eventually saying. “We’ll regroup here tomorrow eight am, with everyone in full health,” she said. “I have other business to attend to first anyway.”

*

Stiles kept glancing up at Derek as they walked back to the hotel. Well, Stiles more like bounced and Derek was more trudging but the general term for bouncing and trudging combined was walking, so… Anyway, yes Stiles kept glancing at Derek until Derek noticed.  
“What?”  
”What?” Stiles asked innocently. “Nothing, you just um, you look very wet.”  
Derek rolled his eyes. “What?”  
”Why are you making me accompany you back to the room?” Stiles burst out.  
“Because as long as I have someone with me, Laura won’t try to talk to me,” Derek said as if it was supposed to be obvious.  
“Why don’t you want to talk to Laura?” Stiles asked.  
“I just don’t,”   
“Wait is this about… uh, no you know what, never mind.”  
Derek stopped in the sand and ran his hand over his face. Then he exhaled slowly.  
“Did Laura tell you about… What did Laura tell you?” His words were accusatory and he was looking at Stiles like Stiles had kept the biggest secret in the world from him.  
Stiles backtracked furiously. “Laura? What? No, no, Laura didn’t tell me anything, god she wouldn’t talk to me about anything especially not Cor- oh shit!” Stiles clamped his hand over his mouth.   
Derek looked sad for a second, and then he looked angry. Very angry. Uh oh. Derek pushed past Stiles, and Stiles clamped a hand on his shoulder, causing Derek to spin round and direct his very angry face at Stiles.  
“Woah there,” Stiles held up his hands. “Look just, just slow down okay? I get that you’re angry,” Stiles said as Derek opened his mouth. “And I’m sorry that she told me, but she didn’t actually tell me anything really, she just mentioned it.”  
“She shouldn’t have mentioned it,” Derek said, still looking like he was about to run away from Derek and toward Laura and shout at her.  
“Okay, right so maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned it Derek, but she was sad, okay? She was looking out at you in the water barely able to stay afloat, and she felt sad, and I know you are able to carry on in life without talking about your feelings, or anything much for that matter, but I guess Laura’s different. She needed to talk about Cora, and you can’t blame her for that, can you?”  
Stiles was breathing hard by the time he finished speaking. Derek looked down at the sand, and for a moment Stiles was sure he was going to start yelling a response, but Derek ‘s body just sort of sagged and he began trudging back to the hotel. Stiles stood watching him, before scurrying after him.

“You actually slept!” Stiles said, his tone congratulatory as Derek stretched and sat up in bed. Derek had some ridiculous bedhead going on, and he looked all mussed up and sleepy and it warmed Stiles heart.  
“Mmmm,” Derek said, and yawned.   
“You feel less hungover and angry now?” Stiles asked, chancing his luck, because hey, luck was there to be chanced was it not?  
“Stiles,” Derek said, and then sighed, which Stiles took to mean I would love you to ask more questions about this topic I am uncomfortable talking about.  
“Do you want to see Cora again?” Stiles asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.  
“Stiles,” Derek said again, and he pulled the covers over his bed.  
“Look, I get that it’s hard to talk about and stuff but talking about stuff doesn’t change it.”   
Derek didn’t answer. Maybe he had fallen asleep again. Stiles wasn’t a mean enough person to wake Derek up if he had. If anybody needed sleep, it was Derek, and Stiles had a feeling that even if Derek slept solidly for a year, he’d still wake up looking exhausted.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've not posted in a while! I'll try and post more regularly. And I know I haven't focused on some of the characters as much as they deserve, so that will be coming up. I feel like I'm still trying to get my bearings with this story (12 chapters in haha).  
> Thanks for reading and hope you all have a good day!

Allison came and flopped down beside Scott.  
“Do you remember when you got me to skip an entire day of school for my birthday?”  
Scott looked at her, and beamed. “You mean the day you were so crazy cute I ended up falling even more in love with you?”  
Allison smiled and dipped her chin. “Yeah, well I was thinking,” she grabbed the collar of his shirt. “that we could skip today. You know, go out, explore. Just me and you. I mean, it’s cool if you don’t want to,” she added when Scott did not immediately respond.  
“Allison,” Scott breathed, leaning in for a kiss. “I could literally not think of a single thing I would prefer more."  
Allison gave Scott that look, the look that made Scott feel deliriously happy, and pulled him to his feet. 

Stiles felt like a bit of creep, watching Derek Hale sleep. At least, he really, really hoped Derek was asleep, and judging by the little snuffly noises Derek occasionally made and the fact he hadn't pushed Stiles through the window Stiles felt like he could safely judge him to be asleep.  
In Stiles defense, there was nothing else to do. The room had no TV, he didn't feel like reading, his phone was busy charging. Stiles knew he could (and probably should) go out and explore the local area, but… Something about staying in the hotel room with Sleepy/ Hungover Derek felt right somehow, even if he didn't know why.  
A violent buzzing sound came from the bedside table next to Derek’s bed, and Derek performed his brilliant trick of going from fast asleep to wide awake in a blink of an eye. Stiles congratulated himself on an excellent use of a pun.  
Derek stared at the screen and then answered the phone.  
“Laura,” he said gruffly. Stiles pretended to inspect the ceiling. The ceiling directly above Derek’s head.  
A long pause. Derek’s jaw tightened. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”  
Derek scowled. “Yes, in person.”  
”Right, bye.”  
Derek placed the phone back on the bedside table.  
“I do believe,” Stiles announced grandly. “That the color they painted this room is called off- white.” 

 

Allison and Scott browsed the stalls at the beachfront. The air was full of the smell of fish and the sounds of excited toddlers shouting. They watched as two golden haired youngsters shoved past them and sprinted past the stalls.  
Scott squeezed Allison’s hand, and Allison raised an eyebrow. “Scott,” she said, giving him a warning look. “I am so not ready for kids.”  
Scott just smiled back innocently at her. “It’s so weird though,” he said, dragging her into a stall to look at shell jewellery.  
“What?” Allison asked, watching as he picked up a pale blue shell bracelet and held it to the light.  
“It’s just weird that none of us have any brothers or sisters. I mean I’m an only child, you’re an only child, Stiles is, Lydia is,”  
“Jackson is as well,” Allison added.  
“Yeah,” Scott said.  
“Was there a point to that observation?” Allison asked, biting her lip. Scott shrugged. “Not really. Just, I dunno, me and Stiles are like brothers, you and Lydia are like sisters. I dunno, it’s just… it’s nice.”  
“Scott, sometimes you are all kinds of bizarre,” Allison said, but her lips quirked upwards. “It is nice though,” she agreed.  
Scott chatted to the stall owner as Allison snapped a photo of the beach front. Scott came outside and slipped the blue bracelet into her hand.  
Allison pretended to be surprised.  
“You totally knew I was getting that for you,” Scott acknowledged with a smile, and Allison said nothing, only scrunched her nose up and kissed him. 

 

“All they ever do is kiss!” Stiles exclaimed, his tone torn between disgust and awe. “And, I mean well, I know they do other things as well, if ya know what I’m saying,” Stiles wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Derek refrained from throwing a pillow at his head. He had made the mistake of waking up, which Stiles had somehow thought was an invitation for him to start jabbering on about any single subject that popped into his head. Derek found it difficult to follow his train of thought at times, but (although he would never admit to anyone) he found the constant stream of vocals from Stiles quietly comforting, not dissimilar to a radio being on in the background and the feeling of not being alone anymore.  
“But enough about them,” Stiles shifted position in his bed. “What do you think? Your eyebrows are ridiculous by the way.”  
By reflex Derek raised his eyebrows and immediately tried to get them to sit in a neutral expression. Stiles found it all very amusing.  
“What do I think of what?” Derek asked flatly, deciding to ignore any eyebrow comments.  
“Of Scott. Of you, know, everyone!”  
“You want me to tell me what I think of your best friend?”  
Stiles sat back, smiling complacently.  
“He seems…” Derek paused, struggling to decide on an appropriate adjective. Teenagery. Normal. Lucky.  
Stiles started to convulse on the bed, clutching his heart. Derek jumped to his feet, alarmed.  
Then Stiles erupted with laughter. “Hahahahahaha- you. You…” Stiles doubled over. “You were actually worried! Ahahahahaha!”  
Derek stepped back. “I thought there was something wrong,” he said.  
Stiles abruptly stopped laughing. “I- uh, I was just pretending. I was going to say “killing me with suspense here Derek”, whilst clutching my heart, but you uh, interrupted.”  
“Oh,” Derek felt his ears burning.  
“It wasn’t a very good joke,” Stiles muttered, looking annoyed with himself.  
Derek didn’t comment. He didn’t know if it had been a good joke or not, if maybe he hadn’t been programmed to think the worst of every situation, of each scenario, he might have laughed, or just thrown that pillow at Stiles.

Lydia Martin was also exploring the small town, but unlike Allison who wanted to spend the day with her beloved, Lydia was choosing to spend it with Boyd and Erica. She would have preferred to spend it sans Erica, but Erica was clinging onto Boyd’s forearm and Boyd was wearing an unreadable expression, so Lydia decided it was unwise to split them up, at least at this stage.  
Lydia knew she had got the job at SportLine TV because she was attractive. The world of TV was incredibly superficial, and in a way that suited Lydia just fine, because she could be quite superficial as well. She and Jackson had been hired at the same time, and although Jackson was loathe to admit it, Lydia had been getting more and more interviewing gigs than he had. Lydia had at first found the whole reporting thing a hobby, something fun to do, and although she still had her heart set on becoming the best physicist the world had seen, she had to admit, she was being drawn into the world of journalism. Everybody had a story, and Lydia was the perfect face from which to tell them.  
She hadn’t been able to find out much about Boyd and Erica, because although they were tipped to be the next big stars, and had a whole accolade of kiddies surfing achievement behind them, there wasn’t that much media interest in them. Yet. 

“So when did the two of you get together?” Lydia asked innocently, inspecting her nails. Boyd didn’t say anything, but Erica peered at her with unmasked hostility. Lydia sighed. She was used to rivalry with girls; it came with the territory of being Beacon Hills High most popular girl. Befriending Lydia would be to Erica’s advantage, but of course Erica hadn’t worked that out yet.  
“Who are you again?” Erica asked. Lydia smiled tightly. “Charming, aren’t you.”  
Erica looked pleased at this. “Oh sweetie, you have no idea,” she crooned. 

After that Lydia fell silent. To her relief, Boyd and Erica seemed to forget that she was walking alongside them (or just openly ignored her, she was fine with either), and began behaving like actual human beings.   
An hour in their company, and Lydia felt she had a pretty good idea on who Boyd and Erica were, or at the very least, who they were to each other.

Erica dropped the whole devilish cat front and was actually quite sweet with Boyd, asking almost childlike, naïve questions in her own unique sassy way, and she seemed to enjoy learning stuff from Boyd- he answered her questions with fleeting smiles and long paragraphs. Boyd was smart, Lydia realised. Not that Erica wasn’t, she had her own brand of smartness, but Boyd knew a lot about random things, and he managed to make everything he say sound pretty interesting, or at least sound meaningful, which not a lot of people could do.   
So Boyd definitely knew how to talk, and was well equipped to do so, which meant he just avoided all the niceties and small talk that people made.   
Lydia was brought out of her thoughts by grinning at her.  
“Yes?” Lydia asked.  
“We were wondering why you didn’t ask us yet,” Erica said, exchanging looks with Boyd. Boyd suddenly halted and pulled himself up on the wall. Erica jumped up as well, lithe as a cat.   
“What, you need to feel all powerful and physically talk down to me?” Lydia asked, annoyed, because there was no way she was able to get up on that wall, heels or no heels.  
“Not exactly,” Boyd said, and before Lydia had time to feel anything like worry, they each grabbed and arm and hauled her up so that she was sitting between them. Lydia felt ridiculously thankful that she had opted for a slightly longer dress today.  
“We were wondering why didn’t ask us,” Erica continued, as though no wall had interrupted the conversation. “About the party.”  
Lydia blinked. “What, you mean when you invited everyone to a party but didn’t go yourselves, and then the next day the new coach miraculously shows up, meaning you guys look stellar and everyone else looks like crap?” Like Derek, she thought. Especially Derek.  
Boyd winced slightly. “I wouldn’t say the new coach showed up miraculously. She was going to show up sooner rather than later.” Lydia appreciated his use of the pronoun “she” rather than the more ambiguous “they”, as it made it seem like he had expected the coach to be a woman all along. Then again, if she was Boyd, and had Erica, she would automatically assume anyone in a position of power to be a woman. 

She held up a hand. “I don’t care.”  
“You don’t… you don’t care,” Erica repeated dubiously.   
“You invited them, us to a party, but you didn’t force the alcohol down our throats or force us to stay up so late. Or early,” she amended.  
Erica was nudging Boyd. “That’s what I said,” she hissed, and then turned a pearly white smile to Lydia.  
“Which is not to say,” Lydia continued, in the tone of vice she used when taking on the bitchiest of girls. “That if you ever pull something like that again…” She trailed off pointedly, and thankfully Erica and Boyd had the sense not to question exactly what would happen.   
“Will we get ice cream?” Erica asked suddenly. “I’d kill for some strawberry ice cream.” She leapt down from the wall, and Boyd followed suit. Lydia groaned. Not again.  
“I thought you had to follow a strict training diet,” Lydia yelled and tried not to look as though she was worried at the possibility of being left high up on the wall.  
Erica gave herself a once over. “I think I’m all good.” She looked at Boyd. “All good baby,” he agreed, and then Erica looked at Lydia, her expression half challenging, half encouraging.  
“All right!” Lydia snapped, giving in. “You’re a blonde bombshell, and you know it.”  
Erica and Boyd helped her down, and Lydia breathed a sigh of relief, rightfully moored on the ground once again.  
They ate ice cream in the bright, afternoon sunshine watching seagulls swoop and chocolate flakes melt, and as Boyd and Erica bickered over something, Lydia allowed herself a small smile.


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles jumped out of the hotel room about a second after Scott had put his key, and pushed Scott into the wall shushing him theatrically, closing the door softly.  
“What are you doing?” asked Scott, without much conviction. He still felt all giddy from his day with Allison, and he couldn’t muster up any anger right now.  
Stiles did his thing where he flailed his arms around, and Scott stepped back. The amount of people Stiles had accidentally hit when flailing was crazy. Scott had been one of them, many times.  
“Shhhh,” he said, putting his finger to his lip. “Derek’s asleep.”  
Scott didn’t get it. “There’s another bed. And a couch.”  
Stiles marched Scott down the hallway. “Yeah, but Derek’s a crazy light sleeper. And there’s been a lot of interruptions.”  
“Interruptions?”  
“With his sleep,” Stiles said quickly, which confused Scott even more.  
“Well, duh,” he said, and did he imagine it or did Stiles color slightly?  
Stiles harrumphed. “Yeah, well, look he still looks like death, so why don’t we just chill out in the lounge for a while so he can sleep for another hour or so. Pleaseeee,” he wheedled, and Scott rolled his eyes and allowed Stiles to drag him down to lounge, which was actually pretty cool. It had a giant TV playing a movie, Scott didn’t recognize it, but he pulled up the information. “An epic disaster movie set in-“   
“Yes!” Scott celebrated, turning to Stiles who shrugged in a coy sort of way as if he had set this up especially for Scott’s benefit.  
“Did you have fun with Allison?” Stiles asked. One of the excellent things about Stiles was that although Scott was sure he was over hearing about him and Allison, and often wound him up about it, he always sounded genuinely interested in whatever lovesick poetry Scott came out with.   
“Oh yeah,” Scott said, feeling dazed. “We went round the town a bit. Explored.”  
“What did you explore? And you’d better not say each other.”  
Scott bit down an ear to ear grin. Stiles flicked him on the chin.   
“I don’t even know why I’m friends with you,” he grumbled.  
Scott gave him his best beseeching look. “Because I’m amazing. And I got you on this trip.”  
“I guess,” Stiles said grudgingly.  
“Are you not having fun?” Scott asked, feeling awful all of sudden. He knew he had practically dragged Stiles along with him for his benefit, without thinking much about whether or not the trip would be for Stiles benefit.  
“What?! No, no Scott, stop looking like I’ve just kicked your dog or something, I’m having fun! Totally having fun. It’s just…”  
“Just what?” Scott asked tentatively. “You want to go home? I mean, I’ll miss you and it’ll suck, but if that’s what you think you should do, you should do it,”  
Stiles held up a hand. “Oh my God, Scott. Stop being overdramatic. I was just going to say it feels like we’ve been gone way longer than we’ve been gone, you know. And my Dad… I don’t know, it’s just weird knowing that I can’t just jump in my jeep and go visit him.”  
Scott thought for a moment. “Maybe you should give him a ring.”  
Stiles shrugged. “I left my phone in the room.”  
”Well, then use mine!” Scott thrust his phone into Stiles hand.  
“Thanks,” Stiles said, and he went over to stand by the wall. “Go on,” he said to Scott. “Watch the stupid disaster movie; I know you want to know what next awful thing happens to them.”

 

Stiles keyed in his home number, hoping his Dad was at home and not still down working crazy hours at the station.  
“Heyyylo?” came the drawn out greeting after his father answered on the fifth ring.  
“Hi Dad,” Stiles said.  
“Stiles!” his Dad exclaimed, and Stiles felt his heart fill with love a tiny bit, because his father sounded so warm and so genuinely glad to hear from him.  
“You miss me yet?” Stiles said.  
“Not one bit. House is nice and peaceful, can eat whatever I want…”  
“Daaaad,” Stiles wheedled. “You promised you’d eat well when I was gone.”  
“Only joking,” the sheriff said. “I had that salad you prepared before you left. It was disgusting. But you know what they say, if it tastes that bad…”  
“It must be healthy,” Stiles finished. “But I made that salad. I know it was delicious. Your taste buds are probably fading.”  
The sheriff harrumphed.   
“Everything good with you?”  
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s great. Haven’t really hung out with the other people yet, but me and Scott are sharing a room with Derek.”  
“Oh,” said his father. “And how’s that going?”  
“Yeah, it’s fine.”  
They talked for a while longer about the latest case at the station, and what was on TV, and whether the sheriff should let Mrs Pickles from next door loose on their front garden, and then they said their goodbyes.  
“Night Dad,”  
“G’night son,”

*

 

Derek met Laura at GoodVibes! an alarming over punctuated restaurant overlooking the beach. He had deliberately waited in his room ten minutes after he intended to set off, because Derek’s instinct was to arrive early, and Laura’s instinct was to arrive exactly time (but in a very rushed state so that exactly on time dipped dangerously onto lateness). Derek didn’t want to be waiting in the restaurant where there would be, you know. People.  
He arrived at the restaurant and waited outside for Laura to arrive. When she did, he felt that familiar flip of his chest, the moment he realized he had been holding onto a bundle of dread that disappeared when he saw her again.  
Alive. Safe.  
She nodded at him. Like Derek, she didn’t believe in smiling for the sake of smiling. You smiled if you were happy or amused or because you wanted to or wanting something from someone. You didn’t just smile because you were supposed to.  
“Stop thinking,” Laura instructed him as they sat down. “What do you want to drink?”  
Derek stared at her levelly. “You told me,” he said “not to think.”  
“He’ll have a coffee,” Laura said to the waiter with a flash of her teeth.  
“Do you just not smile at me, then?” Derek asked.  
Very slowly Laura gave Derek one of her most winning smiles. “Yes,” she said, sweeping her hair into a ponytail.  
They sipped their drinks in silence. Derek could feel the tension building between them, full of the words Laura wanted to say, the feelings Derek did not know if he was ready to deal with.  
“Cora,” Laura began, and Derek flicked his eyes down to his coffee cup.   
“Why now? “ he asked, after Laura said no more.  
“Because you’re in the public eye now, Derek!”  
Derek rolled his eyes. “SportsLine TV is hardly a major channel,” he pointed out.  
“Maybe not at the moment,” Laura argued. “But it will be. Besides, that’s hardly the point. Cora-“  
“How did she… Why now?”  
Laura inhaled slowly. “Derek,” she said, her tone icy. “Let me speak and I’ll tell you what I know.”  
“Fine,” Derek said, and he looked down at his coffee cup again.  
“Her friend’s big into surfing, some surf nut even though he doesn’t do it himself…”  
He? A friend? A boyfriend?   
“Cora was round at his house, and he had it on in the background, he’d taped it off the internet, one of the clips was that interview with Jackson.  
The internet, thought Derek darkly. Jackson.   
“He didn’t know off course. I mean nobody knows who Cora is. They know she’s adopted, obviously, but to them she’s not Cora Hale, she’s Cora Fos-“  
Derek had his hands over his ears. Laura looked at him, an eyebrow raised.  
Sheepishly, Derek dropped his hands.   
“Sorry,” said Laura. “I didn’t.. Anyway, they don’t know, but she does, and she’s thought about contacting us for ages but hasn’t and then this happened and she just thought it was a sign.  
“A sign?” Derek repeated, and he couldn’t help how it sounded on his tongue, scornful, and mocking. Cora wouldn’t believe in signs.  
“We… She’s… I mean we’re different now, she’s bound to have changed,” Laura said faintly.  
“She went talked to her adopt- her guardi- the people she lives with, and then went through the social services and now she’s in contact with us.”  
”Did you speak to her?” Derek asked, risking a glance up from the coffee cup. Laura looks a whole whirlwind of emotions, the hurt of the past clouding the happiness of this news.  
“No,” Laura shakes her head. Somehow this makes Derek feel better. That meant a stranger paraphrased things down the phone to Laura, that she could had plucked the phrase “it was a sign” from her own vocabulary and not repeated it from Cora.   
Cora could still be Cora.

“They don’t want us to talk to her directly until we’re sure we want to proceed. With seeing her. Which we do, I mean obviously. Don’t we?”  
Her voice caught at the last two words, and she held Derek’s gaze, the fears that she would never say out loud hidden in her eyes.  
“Yes,” said Derek, but he didn’t sound sure, even to his own ears. “Yes, we should see her.”


End file.
